The Road Less Traveled
by jenniferlovvrence
Summary: Two mutants: A runaway teen hitchhiker, and a solitary, amnesic man with adamantium claws. When both meet, an unlikely bond is made. One full of reluctance, friendship, and unrequited love. Beginning of X-1. Rogan. Read and Review!
1. Sunday Bloody Sunday

A/N: Hey, everybody! This is my first X-Men story! I recently watched the movie and I obviously liked it. So here's my fanfic! The first chapter and a half is probably going to be directly out of the movie except more descriptive. Rogue is younger than 17. I'm making her around probably 14 or 15. And I plan to make this a LONG fiction, so a lot might be their budding friendship and … well, you'll see. :D I like constructive criticism and I don't mind flames. So review!

The Road Less Traveled On

I can't believe the news today  
>Oh, I can't close my eyes and make it go away<br>How long, how long must we sing this song?  
>How long, how long?<br>-Sunday Bloody Sunday by Paramore

Chapter 1

Grandpa Henry would always tell me stories about the world. The beauty and the peace that surrounded the people. People who created art with their voices. Trance-like music that could just calm your soul.

God, I miss those stories.

Unfortunately, he never explained the terrible things that existed in the world. He never told me that those terrible things could happen to me.

* * *

><p>"This is it." A rough voice broke through my creeping nightmarish dream. I quickly grabbed my duffel bag and hopped out of the truck. I thanked the driver and cut through the grubby parking lot towards the bar.<p>

I was lucky that this truck driver was decent enough not to try anything lecherous around me. Some of the other men I had asked were not as kind a soul as him.

Making sure my purple Hannah Montana scarf that Grandma Ann had given me on my twelfth birthday covered my neck and the brown leather gloves I stole from my mama was up to my elbows, I walked into the bar.

All around me there were screaming people and various smells. I could look at people and tell that they were not safe to be around. I kind of felt like a kid that was finally being treated like an adult. I was amidst the smoke and the near putrid smell of alcohol. The world of pure adult.

Suddenly, looming almost all the way up to the ceiling was a cage. The first thing I saw was a man being dragged out of there. I watched in horror as the two men that got him out of the cage left him on the floor while another man came and purposely spilt his beer on him.

I then turned my eyes back to the man still inside the cage. The only thing I could see was his back. They were covered in an array of purple and red bruises. But I had to admit, it looked _very_ strong.

"In all my years I have never seen anything like that! Who's next?" the emcee called out. People were still screaming in disapproval. "Are you gonna let 'im walk away with your money?" Shouts erupted from the crowd.

A burly, bald man in the back stood up and yelled, "I'll fight him!" Roars of endorsement followed him.

"Ladies and gentleman! Our savior!"

The man still in the cage held onto the fence trying to steady his breathing. I tried to get a closer look at the forthcoming fight. The laboring man threw away what seemed to be a shot glass. He held on to the cage.

Three dings from the bell later, the bald man attacked.

Baldy charged ahead, kicked the man on his back, toppling him over to the side, and then threw a punch. The wickedness of the crowd began to surprise me, but I kept it in while they cheered. Baldy continually kicked the man.

I wondered what would happen if I went in there and tried to keep him back. Would be like the movies where the plan would actually work?

But I knew I wouldn't have the courage to do it anyway.

The man was on the floor of the cage. Everyone was content in approval. Baldy was about to throw another punch when suddenly, the man shot his arm out as well, and the two fists collided.

A sickening crack echoed throughout the cage.

The bruised man got up and from the side; I could see his angry grimace as he stalked Baldy as though he were a prey. It no longer looked like a fight for money, but more like possessive fight of territory.

A few seconds later, Bruised Man had won.

"Ladies and gentleman," the emcee said again. "Tonight's winner and still undefeated, the Wolverine!" Series of boos and displeasure followed. Wolverine ignored them and took another drink from his glass.

* * *

><p>My heart was beating so hard, I thought the whole bar could hear it. I couldn't control it. How could I? Especially when Wolverine was sitting drinking beer just five feet away from me. There was also the fact that the bartender knew I was planning on 'accidentally" slipping some cash from the tipping jar into my pockets. As if that wasn't enough of a scare.<p>

He was just drinking beer and staring at the table as if he had no reason to cheer for the fact that he had won that cage tournament thing. Seemed pretty lonely to me.

I was almost ashamed to admit that he was somewhat handsome. He was much taller than any of the boys back home in Mississippi. But of course, this was no boy. His muscles seemed to bulge and strain against his leather jacket and wife beater. He had sort of a pompadour styled, dark brown hair that drew down to long side burns and almost into a beard.

A rugged sort of handsome.

Nancy Hoffman and Jack Davison were talking about the world leaders meeting at the summit to talk about various topics on TV.

I saw him subtly raise his head when they mentioned "mutants" and I momentarily wondered if he was one or if he was another human who hated mutants. He must've realized he was being watched because he turned to me with a glare. We both glanced back at the television and back at each other, growing delicate suspicions towards each other.

Suddenly, I saw Baldy from the cage and a random man behind him. Baldy's left eye was rimmed with purple, and his lip was split. "I believe you owe me some money," he said, trying to steady his glare on Wolverine.

"I don't owe you nothin'," Wolverine answered, never taking his eyes off his drink. I didn't think he was too worried about Baldy. I guessed that if he could take him once, his motto was that he could take him twice.

"No man could take a beating like that and show no mark from it!" Baldy protested furiously. He leaned in and whispered something behind Wolverine's ears. It must've not been good because Wolverine turned and muttered something incoherent back to him. Wolverine went back to his drink, but it wasn't long until another wave of assault was brought upon him. Baldy flipped out a knife from his belt, pointed towards Wolverine.

"Hey, watch out!" I yelled out.

Everything went to fast for me to even comprehend. In a matter of a second. Rows of blades protruded from Wolverine's knuckles, the last one slowly edging until it stopped at the jugular of the now victim's neck.

With a swing of his other arm, the rifle that had been held to the back of his neck by the mean bartender was cut in half by those knives.

He glanced back and forth from the two threats on either side of him and finally lowered his arms. He began to approach in my direction, and I was definitely sure that the entire bar could hear me now. Was he going to hurt me for witnessing the revelation of his mutation?

_Oh…jeez! Look away! Look away! _

But Wolverine just walked past me with one final glare.

The handful of people that were left in the malodorous place were all staring at the empty spot of the mutant. I took a deep breath, grabbed my duffel bag, and ran out the same direction as Wolverine.

Outside, I saw Wolverine stand next to the door of a small camper. He was still and staring at his knuckles. Once he went inside, I climbed inside under a large green tarp next to his motorcycle.

_Marie, you're being stupid. This guy is _really_ dangerous! _

I ignored the voice of reason in my head and rested my head against my duffel bag.

_How bad could it be?_

PLEASE REVIEW! Gives me inspiration!

I also made a video for Wolverine and Rogue, so watch if you want!

www(dot)youtube(dot)com(slash)user(slash)iminlalaland4ever - Wolverine and Rogue - Jar of Hearts


	2. You've Got a Friend In Me

A/N: I was kind of disappointed since I got only like a couple reviews and quiet a lot of favorites, but that's okay :). I like the idea of this story, so I wanna keep writing it. I'm pretty sure it's not original but … whatever. Read and review!

You've got a friend in me  
>You've got a friend in me<br>When the road looks rough ahead  
>And you're miles and miles<br>From your nice warm bed  
>Just remember what your old pal said<br>Boy, you've got a friend in me

-You've got a friend in me by Randy Newman

Chapter 2

This time, I woke to two dull jabs at my ribs and the sharp sting of the frosty air. I slowly turned my head (while my entire back felt like crap) to face the intruder, only to be met with the annoyed expression of Wolverine staring back at me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He was quiet yet feral like an animal that tamed itself. Of course, it wasn't a self-proclaimed fact that I would be the beast for the next few hours. My whole town knew that if anyone disturbed me from my slumber, the hurt was on them.

I climbed out of the tag-along wagon while Wolverine threw out my duffel bag onto the road. "I'm sorry," I said, embarrassed. "I thought you'd give me a ride."

"Well you thought wrong," he replied curtly. "I can't help you." He went back to the front of his camper.

A flare of anger licked its way up through my body. "You can't or you won't?

"Your pick."

"I saved your life!" I was angry that he didn't have the compassion to even drop me anywhere safe. But what should I have expected from a _cage_ fighter?

He paused for less than a second. "No you didn't." He waved me off as if I were a fly.

He drove off.

I was a wishful thinker. I had hoped that he was dumb enough to never notice my under the tarp so I could at least be with him. Wolverine was the first mutant I had ever seen other than myself and I just wasn't ready to let him go.

About fifty yards away, the camper stopped and I knew I was saved … for now.

* * *

><p>Silence was a key event that took place during the ride. He hadn't said anything arrogant since he let me in. He hadn't said anything for that matter.<p>

My beast silently crawled off and diminished. Now was a perfect time to start chatting up a conversation.

"So … you're a mutant," I said, stating the most obvious fact. I mentally slapped myself for saying that. Did mutants get offended by being called that?

Wolverine glanced at me. "What of it?" he asked gruffly. His hands were clenched around the steering wheel, fingers rapidly thrumming the worn leather. Maybe he didn't want to…

"Does it hurt? When those … uhm … when they come out?" I didn't know what to call them, but I was sure he knew what I meant.

His fingers stopped thrumming and were completely clenched. His knuckles were white and looked _very_ threatening. "Every time."

We were thrown back into the setting of silence. So I observed him again before speaking again. He had a chain around his neck.

"Were you in the army?" I eyed the dog tag. "Don't that mean you're in the army?" I bent my gloved fingers to get some blood flowing. It felt like my bones were turning into ice. I quickly took my leather gloves off after my futile attempts to bring any warmth to them and began to rub my hands together.

Instead of answering my question, he tucked the chain away and turned on the heater. "Here, put your hands up here –." Wolverine went for my hands. I quickly snatched them as far away from him as I could.

"Kid, I'm not gonna hurt you." He rolled his eyes and focused back on the road.

"It's nothin' personal. It's just that whenever someone touches my skin, somethin' happens. They get hurt." I waited for the flicker of fear to cross his face, or for him to throw me out.

He gave me a long hard look at my pale hands. "Better for both of us then."

I frowned at his flagrant statement. _Well, fine then. If he doesn't want to be nice, I'm just fine with the quiet._

He must've sensed my change in mood because he visibly relaxed.

"Got a name, kid?"

I smiled. "Rogue." When I saw his unconfined confusion with a raise of an eyebrow, I mended. "It's actually Marie. But then again, what kind of a name is _Wolverine_?"

He smirked at my comeback, obviously finding it childish. "It's Logan."

"Well, it's nice to meet ya, Logan," I said. My southern accent was slowly becoming more prominent. After a few seconds, he answered nonchalantly:

"Ditto."

* * *

><p>Hours into our trip, we had learned a modicum of facts from each other. Logan liked smoking, drinking, and fighting –three things which <em>I<em> certainly did not.

It was pretty much a miracle that he had told me anything at all. He was too reluctant to share personal information like his age or where he was born –but then again, I didn't answer when he asked me. Otherwise, the other questions took little or no effort.

But in reality, I was hoping he'd take a liking to me so that wouldn't kick me out the next time we stopped. I hadn't a clue where to go next. This wasn't planned at all. Not my mutation. Not his company. I had nowhere else to go if he left me.

"Where are we?" I asked after attempting to get a wink of sleep and failing. The mountainous terrain was similar to the one in Laughlin City.

"We'll be in Canmore in 15 minutes. We can take a break there," he told me. He leaned across me to the glove compartment and pulled out a cigar and put it on the edge of his lips. He pulled out a lighter from his back pocket and lit it. An orange glow became obtrusive like an ember.

"Ya know, smoking ain't good for ya." Random boldness was not a surprise from me.

"Yeah?"

I nodded. "My daddy told me that if you smoke, you lose seven minutes of your life." I played with a loose thread from the sleeve of my coat.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "And?"

It struck me for a moment that this guy had no reason to care about his life. If he was suicidal, that is. Did he wake up in the middle of the night and try to jump off buildings?

"Smoking can kill other people indirectly too. My cousin Leah got an asthma attack one day 'cause her mama smoked in front of her all the time," I said, not so subtle.

"Listen, kid, if you've got a problem with –" Logan was already changing the gearshifts when he stomped on the brakes.

"No!" I yelled out. "I was just sayin'. I don't mind you smoking."

I watched him carefully as he restarted the camper again and started back on the road. I didn't want to admit it, but I was scared. I didn't want him to actually throw me out in the middle of the road.

_Thank God._

He rolled down his window and threw out the cigar with a sigh. He shook his head.

I looked out my own window as if I'd see the cigar myself. "A car could accidentally spill some gasoline on the road and the whole place might blow –"

"Marie!"

"-up." I laughed at his blatant frustration.

Logan. Despite his rough outward appearance, he was a decent guy. It was a side of him that he didn't show in the bar.

* * *

><p>Turned out that we didn't plan to stay in Canmore too long. We stopped at the outskirts of the city for a few minutes to fill up on gas and buy two armfuls of snacks that my mama would've disapproved me eating on a daily basis.<p>

Every few minutes, I could feel Logan's eyes on me. But I wasn't stupid enough to mention about when I was supposed to leave. And he didn't bother bringing it up either and for that, I was more that glad.

* * *

><p>About two hours later, we finally parked outside a nasty looking pit stop. The building containing the bathrooms looked as if one wrong move could bring the whole roof on everybody's heads. Thank God that Uncle Steven's settlement in the bathroom during family-gatherings had taught all the kids in the family –even some adults who didn't bother pulling the puking man out –had learned to hold their bladder.<p>

As of now, Wolverine and I –mostly I –were both standing awkwardly at the back of the camper, trying to figure sleeping arrangements.

The camper was small, and smelled of gasoline and dirt. One look at the man, I could tell he wasn't one to clean up messes himself. He definitely did not seem like the home improvement sort. And by the look of his camper, my accusations were proved. There was a small stove to left with two barrels of gas underneath it. A small bed sat on the right covered with various sheets that weren't white as they used to be. In front of the bed was a small cooler, filled with possibly a never-ending abundance of beer. The floor was completely filthy, bits of dirt and snow melted here and there.

"Wow," I gasped aloud.

He turned to me. "What?"

I unattractively gwaffed at the sight. "I thought _I _had it bad."

"If you prefer the road –," he started, dramatically showing off the cold land surrounding us. "-be my guest."

"I-I-I like it. It looks cozy." _Yeah, right._

Wolverine took off his jacket and shirt and threw it to one corner. He was brazenly half-naked and … it's been appreciated. I looked away from his chest (my face _had_ to have looked like a tomato) and focused on the dirt I was going to sleep on instead. He pulled off the sheets and pillows from his bed and tossed it towards me. He grabbed a bottle of beer from his cooler and we both settled ourselves in: he on the bed and me stuck on the dirty floor next to his bed using all the sheets he gave me as a barrier between the filth and myself.

I willed for sleep to come to me, but I was wide-awake. I was burning from excitement that entered my body since this morning. My mama would've definitely blamed it on all that sugar in my system, but that was just fine. I was too hyped up to care what she would say to all this.

"Logan?" I whispered. "Are you awake?"

I heard shuffling and a muffled "no". I laughed at that.

"Logan, where were you heading off to? You know, before I came along?" As much as I liked the buzz of being a trusting sidekick, I knew that sooner of later (I root for later) he had to go to wherever _he_ needed to go and leave a hitchhiker like me back on the road.

A long silence came from him. All I could hear was both our intakes and exhales of breaths and the subdued voices of the crickets.

"I have no idea," he said quietly.

I lifted my head a little in attempt to see his face. "Whaddya mean?" I asked, curiously.

"It means, kid, that I got nowhere to go and nowhere to be," he sighed. He glanced down at me for a moment before looking back at the ceiling. A couple of light bulbs hung down, looking like thick cobwebs. He took the beer bottle on the floor near the head of his bed and took a large swig. "Hope that's okay with you."

I exhaled the breath I didn't know I was holding and giggled. A flurry of dust from the side of his bed danced around above me. I held my breath until they calmed and fell back on the floor. "That's perfectly fine."

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review! They're an inspiration and frankly, they just make my day! :)


	3. Real Gone

A/N: Remember that some characters in this story are OC on purpose or by accident. I'm still working on my characterization skills. And I also recently saw X-Men: The Last Stand. Yeah, I know. _**Late**_! Does anyone know if the cure was temporary in the comic books or something? I've only seen the three movies (still gonna try to watch the last two) so I'm crossing my fingers that Anna Paquin will be able to play the part of Rogue again if they make an X4 movie for the original movie series. Ok, I'm done babbling. Enjoy!

I'm American made Bud Light Chevrolet  
>My momma taught me wrong from right.<br>I was born in the South  
>Sometimes I have a big mouth<br>When I see something that I don't like  
>I gotta say it.<br>Well, we've been driving this road for a mighty long time  
>Paying no mind to the signs<br>Well, this neighborhood's changed  
>It's all been rearranged<br>We left that team somewhere behind.

-Real gone by Sheryl Crow

Chapter 3

The next few days followed in the same pattern. We woke up at noon and slept at two in the morning. Food included cheese sticks, rare take-outs (whenever Logan felt like it), and a whole lot of beef jerky. Showers happened every two days in old motels that was known for having prostitutes coming in and thankfully charged by the hour. I was scared the first time we stopped at one since the room itself looked like it contained every STD known to man. But I had to get over it if I ever wanted to be clean again. We never attempted to travel too much everyday. Since the truth had been revealed that we both had nowhere to go, a weight was taken off our shoulders. Still, most of the conversations sourced from me while he just answered all my questions and spoke whenever it was appropriate.

It wasn't the kind of hitchhiking buddy I was hoping for. Like I said, being a wishful thinker made me believe that he would succumb to my friendliness and just soften up a bit.

But no. It's as if he has an armor of anti-social somethin' encasing his body. Not exactly helping the cause.

I could hear mama now, telling me that this would be considered suspicious behavior. I guess it would be like that for everyone in Meridian. Everyone was a family there … no one had to keep secrets. Except me, of course.

To the town, I may have been considered the shyest girl in my grade. People knew me well enough but only a handful knew my hopes and dreams for my life. Only palm full of people knew about my mutation.

David was one of those people.

* * *

><p>"Logan," I whined. I scrunched my nose at the smoke that was still secretly wafting to my nose. I had mutely allowed Logan to smoke as long as he had the window open all the way and he was leaning as far away from me as possible.<p>

"What do you want, kid?" he asked me, attempting to move a little closer to his door while failing to make sure I didn't see his small act of compassion.

"Can we get somethin' _real_ to eat?" As good as beef jerky can be for a midnight (or breakfast) snack, eating that after waking up to a growling stomach was enough to make me sick. Especially letting this go on for eight days in a row.

"There's beef jerky in the bag. Grab me one too," he answered, not seeing the obvious problem.

I scoffed and pulled the plastic bag from underneath my seat. Inside were at least 30 packets of beef jerky. The other bags in the back contained all the tortilla chips, Oreos, candy bars, and sodas. The first day, I was thrilled at the prospect of an adult who was willing to let me eat the unhealthiest things. Now … well, now I just wanted an apple and some broccoli.

"Yeah, I know," I groaned. "I'm perfectly aware of that." I opened the packet for him and gave it to him. "But can't we just stop and go into a restaurant for a change? I mean, have _good_ food?"

"You mean over-priced food that could eventually corrupt your body and leave you lying behind a dumpster because of a heart attack?" He put one hand under his chin for a few seconds, as if pondering. "Sure then, why not?"

I watched him in horror as he slowly switched lanes to a coming exit that had a large sign advertising a McDonald's. "Now, Logan! You know that ain't fair scarin' me like that!"

He chuckled at my expression and slowed the camper more until we were nearly crawling on the road. "What's up, kid?"

I crossed my arms and pouted. "You sound like my mother." Logan didn't say anything to that, and I didn't check his face to see what he thought of it.

When minutes passed in uncomfortable silence, I slowly turned to him. Logan had a thoughtful expression on his face as he stared at me.

"I'm sorry, kid. You must miss her a lot." Logan wasn't someone I'd want to call insensitive, but he hardly ever said anything deep.

I shook my head. "I don't know." I lifted my head a little, glancing to see if he'd tell me something about himself. In the movies, this is what would happen: I'd say something about my past and he would be all-knowing and share some information about _his_ past and we'd both hug it out and have a stronger bond … or something along those lines.

But once again, Logan ignored the signs and just sighed. "Hey, kid," he said, trying to get my attention.

I tilted my head.

"I'll take you somewhere nice." He had a sad smile on his face, and I really wanted to ask him why. But I held back and tried not to ruin the moment.

After a pause, I asked, "You promise?"

"Yeah."

* * *

><p>His promise wasn't full-filled that very day. Or the next. I didn't know if he forgot or just couldn't find any good place to take me, but I never pushed him or reminded him. I was just thankful enough for his hospitality.<p>

We did, thankfully, buy healthier things the next time we stopped at a gas station. I would take Subway rather than beef jerky any day. It was weird since Meridian never had anything special than Magnolia's and Grandiflora's Diner. It was my first time eating a Subway sandwich. It's the sad truth.

"Kid, we need to stop at a bar today. We're runnin' low on cash," Logan told me that evening. I nodded. We were in a little town called Maryfield. I'm proud to say it's actually smaller than Meridian.

It felt like I hadn't been in a bar so long that I considered it foreign, even though I knew it had only been about a week. Chilly's Pub and Grill was no longer just a regular bar. Cage fighting was nearly in almost all bars these days. I don't get why it's popular considering it involves a bunch of drunken men beating the crap out of each other. But if that's what Logan's gotta do, well, that means that that's what Logan's gotta do.

There were several women dressed scantily, one older woman wearing go-go boots. Pretty much everyone there was intoxicated, except the employees, Logan, and I.

A small booth stood in a corner in the back. Logan told me that was where everyone placed bets.

"Can I place one?" I asked him.

"Yeah, sure," he said, distracted. "Sign me up while you're at it."

I squinted a little, scrutinizing him. "Promise not to lose?"

He playfully growled and ruffled my head, messing up my hair. "You're too cheeky for your own good, kid." I giggled.

I already knew that with Logan's mutation (whether that included super strength or not … although those muscles tell another story) there was no way we could lose. I pulled my green coat tighter around me and went to place the bet.

A bored looking woman with straggly orange hair sat behind the makeshift, cardboard booth.

"I'd like to make a bet on Wolverine," I said, signing his name up on the roster of people that were definitely going to fight in the cage. I handed her the hundred-dollar bill.

She sighed as if she wanted to be anywhere but here. I didn't blame her.

"Are you, or have ever been, or ever will be a mutant?" she asked lazily.

_Oh, Jesus Christ._

I scoffed and shook my head as though she had offended me, and she somewhat had. I didn't think there was anything wrong with being a mutant … as long as I had a different power. Something that didn't disqualify me from touching people.

Ten minutes later, I stood outside the cage while Wolverine took off his jacket and shirt and tossed it at me. I was used to seeing him half-naked. Even if that fact was true, I would probably never _actually_ get used to it. His body was just … just … manly. Seeing the older boys jumping into the lake with their shirts off after county fairs couldn't beat seeing Wolverine's chest. It was so … well-defined and muscular. I've never seen anyone who has a six-pack and make it look so …good.

I shook my head again and tried to take the thought out my head. Wolverine gave me a look that said 'stay where you are'. I blushed. It felt like that somehow, he might get mind-reading powers and one day find out about my …observations.

I neatly folded his clothes on my lap and sat in one of the chairs near the front. The emcee this time was a young woman with long, red hair. She wore a yellow and green, skin-tight suit with knee-high, leather, high-heeled boots. She looked like a minx or at least like Aunt Jeannette when she got tipsy. The woman waved her arms around as she introduced the fighters.

She called Wolverine's name last. I could see from where I stood that she had winked at him.

I grumbled silently to myself about how she would only distract him from his …work? Whatever. She was only going to get in the way. I definitely preferred the old emcee in Laughlin City.

Since Wolverine had been last called, he would be the last to fight. The first two men to fight were both beefy and both equally drunk. The one with the gauge earring had won. One by one, Gauge-Man beat up the drunken men, treating them like rag dolls and throwing them out of the cage. After the first two people he had taken on, I got familiar with the violence and relaxed a bit.

"This is _my_ cage! _I'm_ the king of this cage!" he yelled out into the crowd.

I brought my hand up to my mouth and softly chuckled under the waves of torturous noise of the spectators. Wait until he meets Wolverine.

Once I looked away from the cage, I searched for Wolverine. He was the fighter after the next, so he should've been standing close to the cage.

Finally, I spotted him at the bar, sitting next to Minx, laughing as if he hadn't had company for _days_. Both took a sip from their obviously alcoholic drink. Minx gleamed like a doll and placed one hand on his bare, muscled arm, and the other on his thigh.

What the hell was he doing with her? He's _supposed_ to be outside the cage, waiting for his turn. Not flirting around with the employees while _I_ was actually doing what I'm supposed to do. Which was support him by sitting outside. Right then and there, I wanted to go there and tell him off, but I held back.

I huffed and turned away, towards the booth-lady and sat at one of the tables near her.

"It's just not fair," I groused to myself. I just couldn't answer the logical question in my head: _What's not fair?_

"Listen, runt," I heard the rough voice of the booth-lady behind me. I turned to face her, a ready-made pout already on my face. "Even your daddy has to have a little fun sometimes."

"He's not my daddy," I sneered. I'm not _that_ young. I sighed and looked back at the smiling Wolverine. "He's my driver. And I'm not a runt"

Booth-lady smirked and cackled a little. "Jealousy is a dish best served cold."

"I'm not jealous!" I protested. "And it's _revenge._ _Revenge_ is a dish best served cold."

Booth-lady rolled her eyes. "Then go tell your boyfriend he's up or else Molly's going to have a very busy night."

I blushed, but still got up to tell Wolverine. Before I left, I had to ask. "What do you got against mutants anyway?"

She gave me a grimace, revealing her surprisingly white teeth. "I don't, runt. Owner does though." She ran a hand through her curly hair. "If you ever need someone to meddle into your situation … well, ask for Sandra." I thanked her and left.

By the time I reached where Wolverine and Molly the Minx was sitting, they were already gone. He was in the cage with Gauge-Man with Molly outside, cheering for him.

I sat a couple seats from where Molly had previously sat at and stared at the tipping jar in front of me. It was a repetition of Laughlin City all over again. Except this time, I felt _utterly alone_.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by throngs of sweaty people. Correction: sweaty, _wasted_ people. Definitely not as alone as I _wanted_ to be.

I looked back at the booth but Sandra was no longer there. I tried to sneak away from my seat and get lost in the crowd outside the cage once again. But nope. _Now_ my life decides to act like a movie. The damsel is in distress and there's no one in sight to help her so she has to panic and look weak. Then all of a sudden, her hero and/or love interest jumps in and beats all the bad guys and both skip off into the sunset.

Sandra couldn't help me and Wolverine was too busy kicking ass and _look_ at ass that he probably didn't even realize that I wasn't around waiting for him.

"Baby, where you goin'?" a slurred voice called out. I tired not to turn to look back and just walked straight towards the cage. But the universe didn't get a hint. A thick hand wrapped itself around my arm and yanked me back. I was face-to-face with a sweaty man, the putrid smell of his breath washing over my face.

"Let go, or I'll scream," I said in a low voice.

The man sniggered before pulling something out and holding it to my back. I felt a sharp point digging into my side. "That's what I was goin' for sweetheart."

Some of the other men that had lost to either Gauge-Man or Wolverine laughed along with him, while some just stayed limp, crying over their wounds.

The man dragged me to the backdoor, far from Sandra's booth and unquestionably far from Wolverine. I struggled against him, but he only kept his threat of the knife close to my body. Once we were outside, he threw me down onto the ground, and kept one foot on me as he wobbled closer on one foot.

Perfect timing.

I crawled back quickly and kicked his shins. While he nursed his leg, I pulled off my gloves and held them up.

"Don't you dare touch me. Trust me, you're gonna regret it." I was more scared than I was the first time Coach Paradise yelled at me for not jumping off the diving board.

Of course, like everyone else, he didn't understand. He charged at me, fury written on his face. In an act of defense, I reached out and touched his face. It didn't take long. Even less time than it took David to pass out.

Jeremy Smith, age 37, complicated marriage, two kids, abusive parents … a failure.

Watching him lay there with his eyes wide open in fear –fear of _me_ –it seemed too harsh to call this man a bad person. I could see why he did what he did. I felt angry for the way he was treated all his life. Anger at Wolverine for taking his last chance of escaping this town. I knew what he planned to do to me. But it had nothing to do with lust. He got enough angry sex from his wife. Just anger. Plain, unadulterated anger. And fear. Fear at the girl he wanted to scare because she was seen next to Wolverine.

I went back inside and used an old payphone to call for an ambulance. I grabbed Wolverine's clothes from the bar and sat where I was supposed to, outside the cage.

The crowd was already angry due to the fact that most of everyone had bet on Gauge-Man. Minx was holding up Wolverine's hand, talking about _blah, blah, blah_. I just watched Wolverine, trying not to cry over what I had just done but tears were already clouding my eyes.

Both our eyes met and I could see the question in his, but I shook my head and smiled.

"Kid, what's going on?" Logan asked me after collecting our winnings for the night. I saw his _other_ winning slowly trailing behind us.

"It's nothin'," I told him. I contemplated the woman behind us and sighed. Leaning in closer to him, I said, "I'll go wait in the camper. You go have fun."

Even in the dim lights, I could see a little pink tinting his face at the discovery. "Kid, I don't wanna leave you in there alone."

I raised my eyebrows (I still couldn't master the art of raising only one). "You want me to come _with_ you? I don't think your girl's gonna appreciate that." I knew he was going to protest, but I stopped him. "It's _okay_. I'll wait in the camper."

This time, he didn't argue. He nodded, ruffled my hair, and walked towards Minx.

When I got into the passenger seat of the camper, I cried.

_I hurt that man._

I could feel him in my head. It was small and brief so I couldn't say anything and he almost wasn't there, but he was. And right next to him was David.

David, to me, was kind of like the "boy next door". Actually, he _was _the boy next door. He had come over so we could both work on our biology project. We had slowly gotten off topic and we talked about our future. I told him about my plans on traveling while putting up picture that were taken in Meridian itself on my bulletin board.

It was an accident, the kiss. I sat next to him and turned only to be met with his lips. We were frozen for a few seconds but that's all it took. Those few seconds, I was able to suck in his memories.

He had a girlfriend anyway.

And Logan. He didn't even realize that I was gone. That I could've been raped. I was just a little girl who needed a ride in his eyes.

"What's wrong with me?" I whispered.

Nobody answered back.

* * *

><p>It all just hit me like a train. This was it. This was how I was going to be for the rest of my life. I can't bring home a boy and tell my daddy that I'm going to date him. I can't hug my best friends unless I have my entire body covered. I can't even become a cat-lady because … <em>I can't touch<em>.

* * *

><p>Logan didn't return that night.<p>

A/N: Did you like it? Hate it? I didn't enjoy writing the second part of this chapter that much. Don't know why though. Please review! Oh, and I'm debating whether to include the X-Men or not. I mean, sometimes I hoped that they wouldn't get involved, but I can't think of any ideas to take place of the X-Men. So, if anyone has ideas, send it over and I'll think about it. :D Let me know if you guys know anything about the cure thingy.

Well, I'm gonna attempt to start chapter 4!


	4. Hero

A/N: So a lot of you don't want the X-Men involved. Except … I decided that I AM going to add them in my story but they're going appear **MUCH** later than I first intended. Even _I_ don't know what's going to happen next, so we'll just have to see :). I also saw X-Men: Origins so you may see some stuff in here that's similar to the movie. Please enjoy!

I am just a man  
>Not superhuman<br>I'm not superhuman  
>Someone save me from the hate<br>It's just another war  
>Just another family torn<br>Falling from my faith today  
>Just a step from the edge<br>Just another day in the world we live  
>I need a hero to save me now<br>I need a hero, save me now  
>I need a hero to save my life<br>A hero will save me just in time

-Hero by Skillet

Chapter 4

My life was far from a movie. When things got out of my control, nobody could save me. Not from myself.

* * *

><p>By the time I woke up, still in the passenger seat, Logan was back and already driving. He didn't look any different from last night. He seemed the same as all the other days. I'd always thought that after you have sex, you'd be <em>unusual<em> for a while. Then again, Logan was older than I was. He must be used to it.

"Morning," he said with a small smile. Nope. He was the same. He always greeted me every morning (or in our case: afternoon) with a smile (which is rare from the rest of my family). If morning (afternoon) rituals for us were any different, I was sure that the world would eventually implode.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "Have a nice night?" I interrogated icily. I knew it wasn't fair staying mad at him for choices he could make by himself. He's an adult. I can't control everything he does. But a flame of fury was stuck inside of me that wanted to burst out and eat everything up.

He inclined his head and considered it. "Yeah, been better. You?"

I stared out the windshield, glaring at the fuzziness on the glass. Why couldn't he ever clean up? "Sure. Fan-fucking-tastic."

Logan raised an eyebrow, and I guess I should've been a little surprised too. I didn't use bad language a lot because of all the scary stories mama told me as kid about what happened to people who cursed aloud. Besides, my daddy would've found every single way to humiliate me in front of all my friends if I swore in front of either of them.

"Rough morning?"

I bit my lip. "Kind of." Minute after minute, the guilt packed on me. "Sorry I snapped at you," I muttered. "Shouldn't have done that."

Logan smirked at that. "It's fine, kid. Are your feeling alright? What happened last night?"

Images of Jeremy flooded my mind. The way he fell. His eyes. His parents. His family.

I could already feel an annoying sting at the back of my eyes and my anger began to ignite when I felt that.

"Nothing," I told him sternly.

He nodded, but I knew he didn't believe me.

"So where's your girlfriend?" I asked him, looking out my window casually. I had expected her to show up with us, yammering on and on about whatever the hell she wanted to -

All of a sudden, Logan swerved to the left and my body slammed into my door. The camper shook as it hit many grooves in the dirt and the roots of the trees. Logan spoke a series of curses while I screamed.

Finally, the camper crashed into a strong tree so roughly that the weak branches fell on the hood.

It was so silent I could almost hear Logan's erratic heartbeats. I was about to yell at him but the concentration on his face kept me quiet. When he didn't address me, I thought it was safer to whisper to him my question.

"What's wrong?"

All hell broke loose.

The sounds of shattering glass and growls filled my ears. A large, thick arm covered in light brown fur broke through the windshield and latched its clawed hand around Logan's throat and tore the man out of his seat. More glass splintered, but I could finally see the assailant.

He was as tall as Logan was –nearly taller –and covered entirely in furs. Except this man had long, dirty-blond hair hanging from his head down his shoulders.

With a quick _snkt_, all six knife-like claws of Logan's shot out as he began to attack back at the beast.

As their epic battle went on, I was attempting to escape the camper. The dashboard had been crumpled up so princely that the whole thing was leaning against my legs. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and tried to twist a little so I could squeeze my legs out.

They wouldn't budge.

Behind me, I heard a loud clang and a poof. I seriously did not want to look back now. But I had to.

The gas barrels had fallen over.

There was a fire … and I'm stuck.

I knew I shouldn't have eaten all that junk food.

In front of me, suddenly very far away, Logan and the other man was still fighting. Even through all my dejected struggles, I wondered if he was like Logan: someone who was territorial. And _very_ possessive.

The man fought with purpose, while Logan defended no longer thinking about the confusion of this attack.

Smoke from the fire behind me began to alienate my nose. I ducked as I had learned when I was eleven. Still that wouldn't work. My eyes were already starting to water. I raised my head to check whether Logan had won yet. I then decided that I didn't give a damn.

"Logan!" I screamed. "I'm stuck!" I could barely raise my voice, coughs following and covering nearly all my words. It was clearly the wrong thing to do because he distractedly turned to me, giving the furry man the opportunity to deck him upside the head. Before Logan could fall, the furry man picked him up and punched him in the gut. Logan flew until he crashed onto the hood of the already-destroyed camper.

"Logan!" I leaned as far as I could (which gave me a little access to cleaner air) so that I could reach him with my gloved hands. I held on tightly to his hand, fearing him dead. His hand had on long gash along the row of knuckles –not only from his claws but also from the glass when it had cut him.

_Please don't die. Not now._

Fear began to course through my body. What was I supposed to do without him? Especially since the furred man was still alive and well. Tears were already falling down my cheeks. This time, it had nothing to do with the smoke stinging my eyes.

Logan had willingly spoken about his mutation once and that was when he was trashed after drinking all the beer in his cooler. I had already witnessed his other mutation the first time in the bar in Laughlin City.

Now seeing it for real ….

The cut slowly vanished, sealing itself up. A loud groan escaped from Logan's mouth. He turned and looked me straight in the eye. A long gash on his forehead closed up. His eyes traveled behind me as he glared at the growing fire.

He rolled off the hood, ran over to my side, and pulled open the door. Just before he could lug me out, the furred man yanked him away from me once again.

The smoke was already invading my lungs. I could barely breathe. I leaned to my right so I could take in the uncontaminated air from outside.

Suddenly, blue filtered my eyes. I glanced up and saw a shamelessly blue … naked … woman standing beside me. Her eyes were bright yellow, like a cat's. Her skin had so many intricate designs on them; I had to wonder if it was really her skin or a suit. Thin centipede-like tentacles began to lift up from her body, pulling back all the blue to show actual skin.

Replacing the woman was a large man about four feet wide and muscles that even Logan couldn't beat. Small tufts of blond hair stood up from the man's (woman's?) head. The … creature … reached for the dashboard and pushed it swiftly away from my legs. I scampered away from my seat and fell back onto the second assailant.

The blue centipede-tentacles pulled itself back onto man's body and replaced him with the blue woman again. I watched her in revulsion as she dragged me out of the camper and into the woods.

"Logan! Logan!" More than ever, I was terrified of this woman. She could become anyone. Anyone she wanted. The greatest trickery of all. I was on the verge of crying again, and I honestly didn't care who saw.

This time, Logan didn't look at me. With a roar, he drove his claws straight into the chest of the furry man. The furry man growled lowly, but submitted to the pain. In a nick of time, he ran in my direction.

"That idiot," I heard the blue woman say. Her voice sounded like a serenade of several different voices. "Sabertooth, come!" She let go of her hold on me and ran straight into the woods, unashamed of her absolute nakedness. To my utter surprise, the man she called Sabertooth got up and speedily jumped towards her direction.

Logan stopped and crouched next to me. I could tell he was debating with himself to stay with me or run after the woman. I didn't care what he did; I just enjoyed the sweet, clean air.

"Marie," Logan said my name softly. I nodded, letting him know that I was okay.

"What was that?" I asked him. My voice was raspy, and sounded lower than it usually was. I cleared my throat a little, but that barely helped.

"I have no idea." He stared into the woods again, as if considering whether things were safe yet. "We've gotta get out of here." We both turned to the damaged camper. Flames were spewing from within so we knew that nothing was salvageable. "Guess we're walking," he muttered.

We were off.

A couple minutes later, we heard an explosion.

* * *

><p>We'd already been walking for one hour and thirty minutes, and absolutely no car or truck stopped for us. Trucks usually would stop for me, but I guess now that I'm walking with a grown man who even without the claws looks like he can kill you … I never stood a chance.<p>

Logan had stolen a bottle from outside a small shack and filled it up with the water he found in the tap inside. Of course, we could only get so much since the owners came in and threatened us. Well, it had to do.

I could tell Logan was wary and nervous by seeing his shoulders tense at every sound he heard. Well, I could relate. I was scared off my rocker that those two would return and maybe the next time with more mutants.

Then it hit me. "Logan, wait."

Logan's claws protruded from his knuckles as he turned around in a defensive poise. I checked around to make sure nobody had seen us. He retracted his claws back.

"No, it's not that. I'm just … confused. Those two were mutants. Why in the world would they want to attack fellow mutants? That makes like _no_ sense. Aren't we supposed to have some sort of alliance or something?"

Logan sighed, pulling one hand down his face. He was tired; I could see it. "I really don't know."

I felt sad for him. All this confusion messing with our heads. The loss of his home, our food, and our clothes. If one thing didn't work, we both separately had a plan. I found truckers and rudimentary beds under tables. He found bars to fight in and a reasonably comfortable bed in the back of his camper. A blink of good luck. But together. It was as if the Lord found something wrong and put us together and took away our luck.

It was the two of us against the world.

Both of us kept walking until I could barely feel my feet anymore. Added to that, I already had bruises on my legs from the dashboard. Logan was doing just fine, somewhat quashing out all the pain that _I_ felt in my hips, thighs, and feet. I almost whined for Logan to carry me, but I knew better than to be selfish at a time like this.

There were still questions bothering me that had nothing to do with the previous attack on us.

"Logan," I murmured.

He grunted to let me know he heard me.

I cocked my head to the right, getting somewhat embarrassed for even starting again. "Where's your girlfriend? I mean, I thought that she would –"

Before I could comprehend, Logan bowed around, set his large hands on my shoulders, and bent down a little so that we could see eye-to-eye. I squeaked a little in surprise but pressed my lips.

I could feel the backs of my ears burning at the proximity of where he stood from me.

"Let me give this to you straight," he said in an undertone. "I _don't _have a girlfriend. I'm _not_ dating anybody. Are we clear on that?"

"B-b-but …" The blood was rushing up to my cheeks. "You slept with her!" I whispered, looking in both directions as if someone could hear us talking.

He rolled his eyes at my inexperience. "It's called a one-night-stand, kid." He must've seen my confused expression. He ran a hand through his hair like he always did in awkward or embarrassing situations (something I accidentally seem to get him into a lot). "It means that you … get to know someone …for one night." He raised his eyebrows together in thought, but accepted his definition.

"Oh," I said, finally getting it. I didn't know if many people did that in Meridian. Seemed to me that the _act_ was what made you like … an _official_ couple. Our TV shows certainly had nothing that would promote such an idea.

"Right," he said nodding. "Now, you got any other questions to make this weirder than it already is, just say it now."

I thought real hard before giving him an evil smile. "So … how do you _do_ it?" I laughed at his flustered appearance and waved my hands. "I'm kidding! I'm just kidding!"

* * *

><p>Minutes later, we found a dirt road that lead to a place called Shilling Pastures, a place where farmers around Maryfield shared the grazing land for their livestock. Since it was already dark, all the animals were already gone by the time we reached the place.<p>

Logan said that since there would be several farms close by, we could find one in the morning and get a ride somewhere. Like a bar. With cage fighting. And food.

But for now, we had to stick to sleeping on the ground. It was only slightly cold since summer was just around the corner (all the snow nearly melted away in the last two weeks), but just as uncomfortable as sleeping outside during a winter night.

I snuggled as much as I could into my coat, but if one part of my body was warmly covered, some other appendage would be touched by the cold. I was just thankful that the ground was solid, and not gooey and muddy. I looked over at Logan every few minutes to see how he coped but he didn't seem to be suffering the way I was at all.

"L-L-Logan," I shivered. He looked at me over the grown grass in concern. I didn't know what to say. I just wanted to start bawling at the sheer curse of it all. "Just … thanks."

He obviously didn't see what I was thanking him for, but once again received it.

We both looked up and stared at the full moon. It was a clear night, not a cloud in sight. I remember when there was a full moon, mama refused to leave the house after the sun went down. When daddy and I asked her why, she told us that people who look at the full moon head-on will go crazy and that's where the werewolf myth came from. Crazy people who looked at the moon.

I didn't really believe her.

"Why is the moon so lonely?" Logan asked me, arms crossed behind his head as a provisional pillow.

"You tryin' to tell me a story?" Like I always said, Logan didn't like socializing and only spoke when he necessarily had to.

"Do you wanna hear it or not?" he countered.

I grinned. "Okay, sure. I don't know. Why _is_ the moon so lonely?"

"Because she used to have a lover."

I let out a loud, hearty laugh. "Wow, Wolverine. Where'd you fetch this one?" I asked him, _very_ amused.

He gave me a smile as well. "No idea, kid. Suddenly remembered it."

"Okay, so tell me about it." This was the possibly the only thing that Logan was willing to share about his past. A story that he had heard before.

"His name was Koo-koo-ka-choo and they lived in the spirit world together."

"Oh, so this is a true story.

"Of course," he answered sarcastically.

"And you mean Kuekuatsu?"

"You heard this one?"

I shook my head. "I went to camp once and everyone was tellin' stories at the campfire but I fell asleep before they could finish this story."

He approved and continued. "Every night, they would wander the skies together. But one of the other spirits was jealous. Trickster wanted the Moon for himself. So he told _Kuekuatsu_ –hah, said it right –that the Moon had asked for flowers; he told him to come to our world and pick her some wild roses. But Kuekuatsu didn't know that once you leave the spirit world, you can never go back. And every night, he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name. But … he can never touch her again."

By the time he was done, I was already sniffling with cold tears drenching my face.

"Kid, you okay?" Logan asked, lifting his head to check on me.

I beckoned with a quick dismissing wave. "Mm-hm. It's just … so _sad_ that two people who _actually, genuinely_ love each other have to be kept apart. It's just not fair."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Logan agree. "Yeah, Koo-koo-ka-choo got screwed."

I giggled, still sniffling. "Kuekuatsu, dummy. It's _your_ story."

He chuckled along with me. "Whatever."

I turned to lie on my side and stared at his face. I was internally deliberating with myself whether I should tell him about Jeremy. I decided against it. It was somewhat of a nice night. We may not have a bed or any food, but … I don't know.

It felt okay right now. Like the bad stuff didn't matter anymore. It was right with him. I was … happy.

My life was far from the movies. Logan wasn't going to offer me his leather jacket so I could be warmer (because that would just be plain stupid of him) or let me use his arm as a pillow so my neck didn't hurt worse in the morning.

I kind of liked it.

"Logan?" I murmured.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Did you have your own Moon?"

He froze. He too turned to lie on his side, propping himself up on one elbow and stared at me. "You ask too many questions." He lay back down and closed his eyes.

"Logan?" I called again. I knew it was too good to be true to have him say anymore about his past.

"What is it, kid?" Frustration laced his voice; I chose to ignore it.

"Goodnight."

He sighed. "Night, kid."

A/N: Aw, I liked the story-time the best. That's like one of the things from the Wolverine movie. There's going to be only one more thing from that movie. I had to change the plot of this chapter like three times. So, I hope you guys liked this chapter! I don't know a whole lot about Canada since I haven't been there since I was like 10. So I'm just gonna wing it.

Please review! XD


	5. This is the Life

A/N: I want to start by saying thank you to everyone that reviewed. All of them have made me super happy and gave me A LOT of encouragement to write new chapters. Well, I hope you guys enjoy chapter five because it's longer! Please review! XD And I might have made Wolverine a little different. I was a little hyper while writing the first half of this chapter.

And you're singing the songs thinking this is the life

And you wake up in the morning and your head feels twice the size

Where you gonna go? Where you gonna go?

Where you gonna sleep tonight?

-This is the Life by Amy MacDonald

Chapter 5

I woke up the next morning from the excruciating pain from someone tugging my hair. I quickly got up and looked behind me to face my attacker …

…only to be met by a goat chewing on my hair.

"Ew!" I exclaimed, crawling away from the beast, pulling my wet strands away from the goat's mouth. A nasty smell was emanating from my hair. _God. Can this make it any worse?_ I looked over beside me where Logan was still sleeping like a baby regardless of the fact that three goats were staring at him.

I was about to awaken him, but then I realized that this was the first time I woke up before him. It doesn't exactly sound like anything big, but it kind of was.

Logan always woke up before me so we could get a head start on the road to wherever. I don't know if he did that from embarrassment from the uncomfortable noises he made when he had nightmares. He never jumped up screaming bloody murder or whatever; I suppose he always woke himself up before he got to that part. From the second night in the camper to the last night Logan was in his camper, I always got up and sat by his bed until he was nearly done with his nightmare. I knew when to go back to pretending to sleep before he got up, 'cause I think it might hurt his male pride or whatever. Mama tried to teach me about male pride, but I never really understood it.

Now, watching him sleep so peacefully with bright green grass and small, baby dandelions around his body … it just made me wanna go and just pinch his cheeks. Of course, I pretty sure that would get me into a lot of trouble.

I pulled my knees close to my chest and just sat there, taking in the moment. It would have exhibited a whole lot better without the goats but … eh, what can you do? One goat started to spin around, nodding its head. Out of now where, it raised its head and sneezed.

All over Logan.

Logan sat up with a yelp, his arm stretching out and roughly knocking over the goat. He scoffed as he checked himself over with all the … _unidentifiable_ liquid all over his jacket. He gave me a quick glare. "Could've woken me up."

I provided him a tight smile, not yet ready to tell him why I didn't.

Logan took off his jacket, and wiped off any snot that got on his flannel shirt. I pulled out my Hannah Montana scarf from my pocket and tried a knot around my neck. Both of us stood together, trying not to trip over the surrounding animals. About fifty feet away, there was a long wooden fence stretching either end of the pasture. There was a small group of men huddled together, laughing.

We were about to approach the group when I heard a voice behind us.

"You got any business over here?" A heavy-set man, with a receding hairline stood there, eyes looking all droopy.

"Yeah, we're looking for a ride to a bar," Logan answered him, shucking the leather jacket over his shoulder. He glared at me once more.

The man analyzed us both carefully from head to toe. "Looks to me that you two already got a ride." He appeared disgusted at this and skewered his face with that aspect. "Aren't you a little too young to be a prostitute?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in bewilderment. I finally understood how we must've appeared to him. Or to anyone for that matter. Two people: a teenager and a grown man both found in the middle of a pasture covered in sweat and dirt …. All too convenient for God to send me … once again. Of course.

I could see Logan's friendly face twist into a snarl. Trust me. I was feeling all too same. "Hey, buddy, she's just a kid."

"Yeah," I agreed angrily. "And I'm not a _prostitute_. Besides, I didn't think there was even an age limit for that. Not that I would know because of personal experience or anything, I just … never mind." I finished lamely. Logan gave me a look that said 'just shut the hell up.'

"Well, we can't do nothin' for the two of you," the man said sternly. Logan's jaw tightened at the obvious lie emitting from his mouth.

The man smirked. "I'm sure the folks at Miller Farm can help you two out. No doubt about that." The group of men that was previous at the gate was walking towards us.

"Oi, goin' to Miller Farm?" one man from the group called out.

The man in front of us nodded. "Yeah, these two are."

"What's wrong with Miller Farm?" I asked them, genuinely curious.

"That old man and his wife … too proud for their own good." He rubbed his chubby face. "I kindly offered them to have their animals graze on this land, but old Travis thought he was too smart for us. Don't know what goes through his head half the time. He's just tryin' to show us all up, that's what he's tryin' to do."

Though that made no sense to me, I knew well enough that they were talking about some complicated insult about the owner of Miller Farm. I speculated if it was worth making enemies once again with people I didn't know.

"So … where is it?"

* * *

><p>"The number of jackasses in this place almost beats Saskatoon," Logan grumbled as we trudged our way through the narrow dirt road to Miller Farm.<p>

I rolled my eyes. "Oh quit whining, Logan. And quit saying weird French words. _Saskatoon. _God, what the heck does that even _mean_?" I tiptoed around an anthill, colliding with Logan's back. "And walk faster!" I checked to make sure my coat covered my neck and gave him a small shove.

"It means you're extremely confused, kid. Saskatoon is a city, not some random French word." He paused in his trek, making me run into him again. "Wait a minute, didn't you tell me that you took French classes before?"

At least someone was listening. "Yeah, for like half a semester. I just don't get it. How does m-o-i turn into _moi_ instead of moh-yee? _Way_ too hard for me." I rubbed my nose. His back might as well been made of metal.

He ruffled my hair and laughed. "It's a respected language. Very cultural."

I snorted. "What, you speak French?"

"As a matter of fact, I know enough to carry a conversation. I remember this one girl I met taught me how to say 'I'll get a beer'. I think it was '_je suis un être humain ingrat_'." It was a thwarting thought, but I had to admit that Logan's rough voice speaking French words sent involuntary shivers up my spine. That definitely had nothing to do with the cold. Definitely something I shouldn't do while I'm in front of him.

This time, I halted. "I think she made you call yourself an ungrateful human being." I stared at him for a moment before succumbing to fits of giggles. I heard him softly mutter, "Oh, shit." I patted his shoulder in assurance.

I glanced at the sky; I knew we had slept in a little longer than we usually did according to the way the sun was sinking behind the trees.

A large red barn came into view. The paint was faded and chipped and the door was wide open. From where I stood, I could see a few tools like shovels and rakes. Just in the corner, I saw a horse with a dark mane bob its head.

"Do ya think they're home?" I looked up at Logan. He was directing his attention on something else. He took a large whiff of the air.

"They're out." He gave me a mischievous smile. "What do you think about grand theft auto?"

* * *

><p>"Logan, I <em>really<em> don't think we should do this." I constantly checked behind our backs. I was extremely upset with Logan. Why does he have to go and be rash about everything instead of just … I don't know. If this is what male pride is, it completely deserves to be knocked around to get some sense into it.

"Stick around me, kid and you'll have to get used to this," he grunted. He was using pliers and some other tool to hotwire the motorbike. We were standing by the last stall in the barn, which was where the bike was located. I nervously paced while some of the animals watched us.

"But those other people saw us! They know what we look like! When the owners come back and find out we stole _their_ bike, we're gonna get in so much trouble." I was close to hyperventilating. The last thing I needed now was getting caught because of a silly thing like this, especially when we could've just kindly asked.

Instead, Logan chuckled. As if there was _nothing_ wrong with this scenario. "First of all, they won't find you since you're not even a citizen here. I don't think they're going to post wanted pictures of you all over the continent over something like this. Second, I really don't care."

I let out a frustrated groan, bringing my gloved hands to my hair, pushing it away from my face. "Fine, just … hurry up. Before the owners get back."

"Yeah, I know. I'd hear them before they …" I twirled around when he didn't continue. His head was raised again, sniffing the air. I ran toward him.

"What is it?" When he didn't answer me, I repeated the question. "Logan, what is it?"

"Shit," he muttered for the second time that day. Before I could comprehend what was going on, Logan grabbed on to my arm and pulled me behind the stall. I heard a small thump as his back hit the wooden wall. He had one arm wrapped around my middle, holding me firmly while his other hand gripped onto my scarf and placed it on my mouth. His hand, it was too close from slipping from the scarf. He could easily touch my cheek or my neck. I struggled against him, but he had both my arms locked down with both his legs on either side of my body.

"Stay still, kid," he whispered, his warm breath rushing past my ears. "I think one of them is on their way here."

_Oh. My. God._

He could hear my heartbeats. There was no way he couldn't. It was thumping away like a rabbit. I could feel his hard chest pressing against my back, his powerful legs hugging my sides, and I could hear his heavy breathing in my ear.

_Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. _

"Dammit, it's cold," Logan continued to converse.

If my thundering heart wasn't strange enough, my laboring breaths should've given me away. I tried to relax and stay frozen so that I wouldn't accidentally move his hand and eventually kill him.

"You can't hide," a voice echoed through the barn. "I got a gun, so you can't escape." The voice was shaky and weary yet still firm.

Just freaking great. A gun. There was no way we could win against that. And I don't plan to battle against one.

I was cynical at first about Logan hearing anybody, but he wouldn't lie about that. I just wish his animal senses worked _before_ they got us in trouble.

I once again thrashed about against Logan again, but this time, he let me go. I hopped up and revealed myself from behind the stall. I raised my hands above my head.

"Oh," I squeaked at the sight of the rifle in the man's hands. He was standing only a few feet away from me, but the rifle was targeted at the middle of my chest. I tilted my head at Logan, indicating he should come out and surrender as well. He rolled his eyes, but obeyed.

The old man's eyebrows rose when Logan large form emerged from the stall.

"What're you kids doing here?" the man asked, gun still held high. "Experimenting with drugs? 'Cause that do not work on my property."

My eyes widened. I vigorously shook my head. "No. No way. Drugs are bad. W-we wouldn't do anything with them."

"We were cold," Logan cut in. He rubbed his hands together for effect.

The man leaned to his left and eyed the motorbike. "Sure you were." We were quiet for a moment while the old man examined our condition. He sighed. "Why don't we go back to my house? Have something to eat." He wrinkled his nose. "Maybe take a bath."

Wide-eyed, I snatched Logan's hand and followed the man to his home.

* * *

><p>It was quiet and uncomfortable as everyone sat around the small table in the kitchen. The house was only a little ways off from the barn but was covered by a tree. The exterior was covered in wood clapboard sliding and painted white. The roof was covered in black and grey shingles and even had a cute little chimney.<p>

The man had introduced himself on the way back as Travis Hudson. He told us that he also had a wife named Heather.

"Uh, thank you … for taking us in. Appreciate it," Logan said awkwardly.

The silence prolonged, the old woman piped up. "Would anyone like something to eat? Rogue –was it? –why don't you help me heat the leftovers I have?"

"So what in God's name are the two of you doing hiding in a barn?" Travis bent closer to the table. He glowered at Logan long and hard and made sure that the man felt intimidated.

"Our camper got into an accident on the road so we've been walking since. We were looking for a ride."

"Oh, you poor baby," I heard Heather say.

Travis scrutinized Logan more. "Where might that be, son?"

Logan cleared this throat. "A bar."

Travis's white eyebrows shot up once again. "A bar? What for?" He turned to look at me (I was trying to pull out the burning plate from the microwave) and back to Logan.

"Cage-fighting," I told him.

Heather gasped at the term. "That sounds dangerous. I've been hearing that popping up all over the province now."

I smiled and shrugged. "No, Logan's really good at it. He _always_ wins." I winked at Logan hoping he'd appreciate that I shone the light on him.

The outrage on Heather's face told me enough that the shining light on Logan wasn't nearly as bright enough.

"Oh, Travis, let them stay." She put her arm around my shoulder and gave me a tight hug. "You'll stay won't you?" she asked me, hope shining in her eyes. She grinned, showing all her teeth, at Logan. "I promise to take care of both of you. Don't want the two of you out there cold and hungry and fighting for survival."

Travis grumbled an approval. Heather leaped for joy (something I would rather advice her old body not to do) and gave her husband a big, wet kiss. Travis pointed at Logan. "I'll go get you some clothes. I'm sure my son's old ones can fit you."

Heather giggled like a schoolgirl. "My daughter visits every weekend –she actually left this morning –and leaves some of her clothes here." She quickly led me into the foyer and then upstairs. But before I left, I looked back at Logan, who seemed still miserable at Travis's gaze.

* * *

><p>While Heather pulled out all the clothes from her daughter's (Haley) closet, she proceeded to tell me about her family.<p>

She had three children. Her eldest son was Trevor Hudson who was already at 33. She said that seven years ago, he moved to America and got his citizenship there and enlisted in the army. He would be returning soon to visit his home again next week. It made me smile when I saw her face. It was not only happy, but also relieved.

Her middle child was Haley. Haley was 29 and lived in Redvers, but she came to Maryfield every weekend. Except, with incomparable sorrow in her voice, Heather admitted that she knew that Haley only came to see the sheriff. Some weird fling, I guess. Haley owned some place called 'Reflections Flowers Photos and Gifts'.

Her youngest child was just plain sad. Anthony Hudson dropped out and came every Friday, but only to play poker with Travis and Travis's buddies. Win some money.

By the time she was done, she had cleared out almost everything in the closet. She smiled shyly and guiltily when she saw her handiwork. She fiddled with a few scraps of clothing. She tugged at the ponytail of her snowy hair. Her hands were so frail. She picked out a pair of grey sweats and a dark blue t-shirt. "Here, this will do."

The full bathroom in the master bedroom downstairs was large, including a Jacuzzi tub and a shower. I really wanted to use it, but I didn't think it was too appropriate to get too comfortable in a house where the hosts were just feeling sympathy. The bathroom also had a shower and a walk-in closet behind two life-size mirrors.

I stripped down to my bra, underwear, and leather gloves and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn't think there was anything to admire. I was pale and now, pasty. I used to have tanner skin, but couple of months away from the south could cure that right up. Small smudges of dirt and ineffective baths covered my body. My hair was longer but looked irregular, flat, and greasy (due to the lack of proper showers and questionable soap). I was a brunette, but now it looked like I had black hair. There were pieces of grass stuck here and there. The rest of my body … I wanted to cry in disgust. The last week and a half had never had been passed without a snack in my hand. I had gained a considerable amount of weight. I didn't look too fat, but nothing to be proud about. I hadn't noticed since my clothes still fit me, but I guess they were a close fit. Then there were the gloves. If it weren't for the coat, I must look so unnatural in it.

I looked away from the mirror and threw my remaining garments into the pile on the floor. I climbed into the shower and kept my eyes on the walls or the ceiling so that I didn't get too self-conscious about everything.

If this was the movies, I be a cute girl who thought she was bad looking, but indeed was the most beautiful character. All the male supporting characters would be in love with her and the only sticky situation she'd be in choosing which hot guy to be with.

Not so much for me.

* * *

><p>All of us were around the kitchen table again. Heather promised us that she'd give us a tour of the farm in the morning. She even promised me that she'd show me that family album.<p>

Even in sweats and a t-shirt, I felt prim and proper after being squeaky clean. I could barely remember a day before that I felt so fresh. Wearing my wet hair down, my usually straight hair sat on my shoulders in little curls. At least it looked a bit more decent, and that was enough to lift my spirits.

Logan was once against wearing a button-up shirt, but this one was a soft, blue color and it made him look a lot younger than before. And handsome. Just throwing it in there. His hair looked thick, soft, and much lighter now. It looked like the color of chocolate. And I held back the urge to run my hand through it. That was a no-no.

"There are two bedrooms upstairs," Heather tried to make conversation. "One belongs to Heather –my daughter," she said to Logan. "The other one was for the boys. But we started using that for storage." She softly giggled. "Anything that doesn't fit in the basement goes there."

I grabbed the silverware she was passing out, and dug into the lasagna she had made while I was taking my hour-long shower (Travis definitely didn't approve). I pulled off my gloves and placed them on my lap so that the old couple didn't question me about it. I glanced up to see Logan do the same with his food, but was more subtle about it.

"You know," Travis said to Heather. "I was checking up on the horses. Time I came back, I hear a crash in the bathroom. Next thing I know, boy's walking out with half the sink in his hands."

I looked at Logan, amazed. What was wrong with him? He was breaking property already?

"I'll pay for that," Logan muttered, reaching for a second helping.

Travis slowly got up from his seat. "I'll go clean out the other bedroom."

"Nah, that's fine. We can share," Logan said. Everyone at the table stared at him in surprise. I sure did. We may have shared the space in the camper, but I thought that he would want some place of his own where I didn't interfere. The first day, I remember that he tripped over my sleeping form because he had forgotten his choice of letting me stay with him. Then he had given me a half-hour lecture about how I should either sleep further away from his bed, or at the foot of it.

I never listened.

But hey, if Wolverine wants to share a room, who am I to refuse?

"Mm-hm. We always sleep together," I told them happily. This time, everyone turned to me. Heather taken-back, Travis plain flabbergasted and Logan … he was just amused.

The dirtiness of my words dawned on me. Obviously, _after_ said them.

"Uh … I didn't mean it … like that," I stammered, cheeks reddening for the umpteenth time that day.

"Right," Travis drawled. I bowed my head in shame. It seemed everything Logan and I said wasn't good enough to this man's ears.

"Oh, you just quit being grouchy and enjoy the food, Travis." Heather tone turned from cheery to dark and firm in less than a second. I puckered my lips in thought but decided I'd rather not ask.

After we all ate, (Logan had three servings, while I watched what I ate and just disappointingly stuck with one), Heather once again took me upstairs except this time Logan followed. She directed him to stay outside while she cleared up Haley's room with me.

As we were folding the clothes on the bed, she impishly smiled at me. "You know, it's alright having feelings for older men." She glimpsed at me, but went back to folding. Suggestive.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I replied.

"I met Travis when I was only seventeen. My family was so adamant against me marrying a man so much older than me –he was 22. By the time I was twenty-six, I finally told them to shove it, and married the man of my dreams." She smiled at the memory. "I made a good choice."

"Me and Logan –we ain't like that –. " I started. I remembered Logan's super-sonic hearing and shortly cursed the luck that God wouldn't give me.

"Oh, I know that you care for him and he cares for you. I can see it in both your eyes." She waved away and dismissed my objection. "I just want you to make sure that you're making the right decision if your relationship ever gets … physical."

My face could've just exploded from the heat that was burning.

"I promise, our relationship is completely –what's the word? –platonic." I stumbled around my words. "I –we –never. No. We're friends."

Heather was doubtful, but she decided to give up the conversation. Most of the room was clean by now. From her side, she pulled out a cream-colored nightgown. "Put this on. Might as well sleep comfortably." As I changed, she walked over to the dresser in the corner. She pulled out a drawer and sifted through some of the things. "And if you two ever decide that it's time, Haley stashes condoms in this drawer, alright?"

My jaw went slack. Oh, God. Does this woman not get it?

I smoothened down my gown and laughed awkwardly. "That won't be happening."

She nodded. Her eyes traveled down my arms and rested them on my gloved hands. "Why do you wear those gloves?"

I looked down at the leather, curled, and uncurled them. "My hands are always cold, so … I wear them."

She didn't believe me, and I had the distinct feeling she already knew why I wore them.

Immediately after she left, Logan entered the room, his face tight but a small smile on his lips. He was trying not to laugh!

"Done with your girl talk?" he asked, enjoyment flashing his eyes.

"Yes," I said irritated. "I am."

Logan unbuttoned his shirt and flung it on the dresser. I was stunned for a moment, thinking he was acting on the overheard conversation between Heather and me. But I remembered that he always slept shirtless.

Sleeping side by side …was weird.

I had watched a foreign movie a long time ago where two enemies had gotten together for a green card marriage (but had begun to have feelings towards each other) and had slept in the same bed, each quiet, and wondering what to do.

For once, the movies were right. Both of us were lying down, facing the ceiling, stiff-backed. Neither of us tried to get comfortable and sleep. Don't know why, but I think we both felt the need to … talk it out.

"So … what do you think of the Hudson's'?" I was being cautious, tiptoeing around the weirder subjects. I turned on my side like I did last night.

"Real piece of work," he answered snidely. "He does not like me, at all."

"That sucks."

"I know."

We stopped and listened to the crickets. Their singing was dulled by walls encasing us.

"When are we leaving?" I asked him, biting the inside of my cheek. I kept having the annoying feeling like Heather could hear us from downstairs and that I was offending her.

"As soon as possible. I wanna keep going east."

"What for?" I propped myself up so I could see his face.

"You told me this was your first time in Canada. Might as well show you the sights, right? We could go to Niagara Falls … then go all the way back to the Canadian Rockies."

I froze, my face softening in awe. I gasped, tears threatening to spill. I turned away from him. "Wait, wait, wait. You were going to take me to Niagara Falls?" I looked back straight into his eyes. "That's … that's the sweetest thing anyone would do for me. Thanks Logan."

"Can't thank me yet, kid. Haven't taken you there yet," he said gruffly, embarrassed.

"Yeah, but it's the thought that counts." After being silent for a minute, I started again. "You know, when I first left home, I thought I could just get a head start on the road trip I wanted to go on. It didn't exactly work out the way I intended since none of the truck drivers planned on stopping for sight-seeing." I brought the heels of my hands to my eyes to keep to dab away any tears. "I never thought I'd meet someone like you, Logan. I'm really glad I did though."

Logan brought his arm, sneaked it under my shoulders and brought me close to him. I held my breath, once again afraid he would touch my skin. But he just planted a soft kiss on my hair. "Me too." He didn't let me go, but must've felt my body become stiff. "I'm not afraid of your skin," he whispered in my hair.

"You should be," I mumbled. I slowly slithered out of his arms and faced the closet. I heard him shift in the bed.

"Kid, if you hear me having a nightmare, just wake me up or ignore me. Don't stay up and watch me. Let me have some pride left in me."

I turned a little, culpability written on my face. "You knew?"

He snorted. "You're the worst fake-sleeper I've ever met."

I chuckled. "Okay. G'night, Logan."

He was quiet for a while; I thought he was asleep, but he answered. "Night, kid."

* * *

><p>AN: Hope you guys liked this chapter! What did you think? Let me know if y'all want them to stay on the farm a little longer or you'd rather see them keep moving on. The setting of the next chapter will most likely be in Maryfield and the farm. New characters and a mutant entering the story. My goal is to make each chapter longer than the previous one. So, wish me good luck!

Please review! It gives me inspiration!


	6. Stranger

A/N: Sorry for the late update. I had trouble putting this chapter together. It's not my fave, but I hope you guys like it. Thank you all for the reviews and alerts! I seriously love all my readers! Enjoy chapter six!

**Q & A:**

dark-night: The X-Men will be coming in later. I'm positive they'll show up.

desy: I went back to the last chapter and fixed the Heather and Haley mix-ups. I'm gonna read through this chapter like a hundred times to see if I made the same mistake. I haven't really thought about Victor and Logan being brotherly, but I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the idea!

g-love78: I'm thinking Logan and Marie will be going east, towards New York, but it's a LONG story (and I suck at geography) so maybe they'll go to Alaska sometime. :D

Stranger I've known you for so long

I found you lost with a compass in the fog

Stranger you know me too much

Illusionary-self had no be touched, until you

Humming Hallelujah in the dark

Whispered poems leave you to be

Humming Hallelujah in the night

The sun might rise, as sometimes does it fall

Hallelujah, hallelujah

Stranger you've followed me so far

Until the roads converged, as did the stars

Stranger the moon looks blue tonight

Hallelujah, hallelujah

-Stranger by Katie Costello

Chapter 6

Warmth.

A surging heat wrapped around my body; I felt the tenderness of it brush against me, not yet reaching my skin. Upset, I slowly moved closer to the warmth so that I could all out feel it. There was a comforting sort of weight on me, and all around my body, it gripped me from my movement.

Sunlight streamed from between the thin curtains and shone on my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, annoyed. I shifted in the bed so that it wouldn't bother me. But the light was unrelenting as if on a mission to wake me up from my somewhat peaceful slumber.

I curled my toes and attempted to stretch out the kinks in my body, but was cut short. Confused, I twisted around to investigate the disturbance. My conscious was finally returning to me, as I saw the once again strange position I was accidentally put in to.

Logan was the weight.

Oh my God. If this keeps up, I'm eventually gonna end up with permanent blush painted on my face.

One of my legs was trapped between his pajama-clad ones, while his right leg was draped over my waist. His left arm was underneath me, but used it to spoon me closer to him.

But that wasn't what brought the blush to my cheeks.

His right hand was firmly placed over my right breast, audaciously moving in corporal … ways. I breathed deeply, thinking of how to get out of this position without waking him up and causing any more discomfort between us. I was ashamed to find out that it felt … kinda good.

The conversation that Heather and I had last night came back to me. I knew for a fact that Logan had heard her lecture me, but he didn't mention anything about it before going to sleep.

And I don't plan to talk about that anytime soon either considering what was happening now.

I sneaked my leg gradually out from between his and shimmied forward in the bed in effort to get his leg off my waist. Didn't work. So I grabbed onto the bedpost, dug my nails in, and slowly pulled myself away, but Logan didn't want to let go. His grip on me tightened and he just snuggled me closer to him.

I gasped. My face was barely an inch away from his that if I moved even a little, my cheek would've brushed against his.

Oh my _God_.

This time, Logan's arms were wrapped around me completely as if he was giving me a hug. Except, the hug didn't seem so innocent considering his hand was now on my butt.

Thank God that I'm wearing my gloves and socks. I was surprised that my skin hadn't touched his yet since he didn't have his shirt on.

I prayed in my head that the Lord would just give me a break. I mean, as much as I've seen this stuff in movies and TV shows where girls got themselves in these strange situations, things like this just did not happen to me on a daily basis. I had no idea what to do.

"Logan," I whispered, squirming a little in his hold. Maybe I could break into his consciousness and tell him to let go without actually waking him up. Once again stolen from the movies. I _really_ have to stop doing that. "Lo-gan … you gotta let me go."

He grunted and I vaguely heard him mutter, "Shut up."

I _hmphed _in indignation and repeated my order. I brought my gloved hands to his chest and gave a little shove. Okay, I'll admit, his chest felt amazing. _Really_ good. So I left it there. "I gotta get up, Logan. You need to –."

"Are you both awake?" Knocks came from the other side of the bedroom door. "I'm coming in!" Heather burst open the door, while I squirmed frantically, knowing that this would only try to confirm her suspicions. Heather and I both stared at each other, and it seemed to go on forever. But only a second later, she yelped and turned her back on us.

Her sound ricocheted through the room.

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have barged in. You should've said something!" Her frenzied rambling only made me want to abort my plan even more considering how _loud_ she was.

A low moan escaped Logan's mouth. I turned to him worriedly.

Heather gaped in horror at the sound. She tightly held onto the tray that she was holding and scampered away from the room as fast as her little body could.

"Can't anybody just shut the hell up?" Logan yelled, tiredness thick in his voice. He mumbled a string of incoherent words and buried his head into my chest.

I think the universe wants me to friggin' explode.

We both were frozen; I could feel Logan's body stiffen. Me, I had no idea what to do. Logan, I had no idea if he was even aware of what was going on. Seconds later, I felt him raise his head. He stared at my face for a long time in exasperation before shouting in shock.

_His eyes are blue_, I thought. I never noticed that.

He pulled back his arms and legs away from me and scootched across the bed. He slipped on the sheets and landed on the ground. I crawled towards the edge of the bed to look down.

"A-are you o-okay?" I asked him. He was still staring at me in surprise. "I'm-I'm sorry, Logan. I didn't mean to -."

"Why the hell are _you_ apologizing?" He got up onto his feet. "I told you to wake me up. Especially if I do something … weird like that." He ran a hand through his messy hair –the ultimate sign that he was embarrassed. "Sorry." He went to the dresser to pick up his shirt from the dresser and left the room.

* * *

><p>Logan refused to speak to me for the rest of the day. Not a word. At least he had a great excuse for it.<p>

Travis made it so that if we wanted to 'reside in his house', we had to work. It sounded like a fair deal, but I was hesitant. I didn't have to raise any objections at least. Travis, thankfully, also agreed to pay us for helping around the farm. He and Logan went out to work in the fields (Miller Farm grew wheat) while Heather and I took care of the house and animals.

This was something I was _not_ looking forward to.

Heather had me dress in tattered clothing: an oversized stripped shirt and a pair of loose, ripped jeans. She didn't want me wearing my mama's gloves so she gave me another pair –bright yellow ones. Gloves that have seen a lot of scary things.

The horses were a load of work. At least Heather told me that I didn't have to look after the pigs and the elk. For now. Heather would only help me with the first horse and then I'd have to work with the rest by myself. Even though I was from the south, most people stereotyped us all to live and work in farms; I hardly had any experience with one. Aunt Jeannette and Uncle Steven owned an orange grove called Cara Cara and every Saturday mama, daddy, and I went to help pick the ripe ones so Aunt Jeannette and Uncle Steven could sell them during the rest of the week. None of my other friends had farms so that was probably the closest I've gotten to doing farm work.

Heather instructed that we first needed to check over the horse for any cuts or any stones in their hoofs. That proved to be an interesting task since the horses _really_ did not like me. They either would ignore me when I tried to get them to budge or bump into me so that I fell on my back.

Second, we had to clean their stalls, which is the grossest thing _ever_. I had to get the horse and all its stuff out. Then I had to use a pitchfork to pick up all its junk and put it into a wheelbarrow and put it in this manure pile (my nose could've as well been burnt up) in the _far_ back. Each stall took about twenty minutes.

Then I had to get the horse back into its stall and feed it some hay and give it lots and lots of water. Heather told me I could multitask by grooming them at the same time.

Since working with the horses was so time consuming, and Heather needed to clean the house (her son, Trevor was coming home in two days) and make food and all that stuff.

The horses were mistrustful of me, but warmed up after a while. I liked the black horse with white spots the best –a stallion I think it's called. He was the only one that didn't fuss about while I did my job. As I worked on the stallion's stall (which said his name was Benson), I took time to think about Logan.

Was he mad at me? I mean, it _was_ an accident what happened this morning. Does he think I'm some sort of pest?

What if he leaves me here?

That got me alert. _Would_ he leave me here? He did promise that he was going to give me a ride somewhere. Not get attacked by mutants and end up in an old couple's house in a town that I possibly put a man in a coma in. He could go anytime he wanted. I wasn't his ward. I didn't know if he even thought of me as a friend.

With worry in my heart, I kept cleaning the stall.

* * *

><p>By the time I was done with my chores, Heather informed me that that was only the beginning. In the afternoon, I have to take them one by one to their pasture so they can get their exercise. But I didn't have to look after them or anything since they can get the dog Monty can run around and take care of the horses. Monty was a pretty nice dog. I once had a puppy named Albert, but we had to send him for adoption when he started getting too big to stay in the house. I was only six then.<p>

And, I also learned that this would be an everyday thing.

The end of the day, I couldn't feel my shoulders or legs. Heather tried to rush me into the bathroom so that I didn't mess up her carpets. That would be the last thing on my mind.

After a long, hot shower, I didn't even care about my appearance. I just needed a large bag of ice sitting on me.

I hope Logan takes me away from here.

* * *

><p>"Let me ask you: what exactly were you doing out on the road?" Heather asked me Wednesday afternoon. She was making lunch, this time pizza like the cooking show we'd seen only an hour ago.<p>

I took a large sip from my chocolate milk (Heather insisted on treating me like an eight-year-old). "I thought Logan explained already. We got into a wreck and lost our … home, I guess."

"Yes, but I meant how did you come to know him? Why do you call yourself Rogue?"

I watched her over the rim of my mug. She knew _exactly_ why I called myself Rogue. What? Did she just want confirmation to kick me out of her home because I was a mutant?

"You're suddenly very curious," I said lowly, looking away from her.

Heather kneaded dough on the counter, twisting her knuckles into it and suddenly slapping it over and starting again. "You seemed upset lately."

I sighed, considering what she would do to me if I really told her everything. Would Logan hate me for getting us thrown out of the house?

"I was traveling," I began cautiously, "… and I met Logan … in a bar. He agreed to give me a ride to the next rest stop." I was getting braver as I continued. "But we stayed together a little longer and we ran into … a couple obstacles on the way and our camper got destroyed." I gave Heather a small smile. "And here we are."

"Here were are," she repeated. "You seem a little young to be traveling, don't you?"

"Gettin' a head start," I mumbled, nervously.

She set the dough aside and looked at me head-on. "I have nothing against mutants. I don't want you or anyone for that matter thinking I do. I believe God's given a selective few _amazing_ abilities and that He trusts those few to use it for good." She broke her gaze and went back to the dough. "So don't be afraid of me or Travis. We're harmless."

I bit my lip and kept my head low. To think that was what I needed for a while. For someone to just tell me that they didn't hate me for being me.

Acceptance. Tolerance.

I wept for a while. About everything, I guess. For David. For Jeremy. For my family. Heather didn't say a thing after that. She just went back to making lunch, letting me get my emotions out of my system. I could tell she was curious about what my mutation was but didn't ask, thinking I would tell her when I thought it was time.

"Thanks," I told her when I was done. "I really needed that."

She smiled at me. "Come to church with us this Sunday. Pastor told us that he'd be giving a sermon on forbearance. I think you'll like it."

I nodded. "I guess. It's been a while."

"Good. See if you can convince your boy to come with us." Heather winked.

I groaned. "I think he's _really_ mad at me. Last night, he wouldn't say a word to me. I don't think he even slept one bit!" I woke up that morning, expecting a sleeping Logan (he had been getting up later than I have for a couple days now), but he was already gone, working in the fields by himself.

Heather shook her head, chuckling. "He cares for you too much, that's what _I _think. Talk to him before we go to dinner tonight. I'm taking my son to this new Indian restaurant just outside town. Anthony will be there as well."

"I don't think he likes me very much right now. And I don't want to make him mad. He might … I don't know."

"Leave? Is that what's bothering you?" she sighed. "He's not going to leave you. Not if he thinks it'll be good for you. I may not know him well, but I've lived a long enough life to see signs when I meet someone. He's shy. Give him some time to clear all doubts in his mind."

"Yes, because Logan's the first I'd consider to be shy," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

She laughed with me. "You don't think he's even a little withdrawn? He talks and looks like an adult, but for some reason, I see another confused, insecure teenager stuck inside all of him."

I shook my head, my hair falling out my loose ponytail. I couldn't even imagine Logan as a teenager. "I don't get how you can see all that."

"When you fall in love, you find out the different aspects of that one person. You don't just see through rose-colored glasses. You see everything. I saw Travis and now I see others." She speckled a little water on the dough. "Tell me, Rogue, do you love him?"

I gulped. "I've known him a little more than a week. Don't you think it'd be a little too soon to say anythin'? Besides, he barely tells me anythin' about himself. It's kind of hard to find aspects."

"It's hard to say. Love is timeless. It happens whenever it pleases." She gazed off, as if thinking on a memory. Her face looked soft and I could almost see the youth in her eyes. "Just be careful, dear. You're young and you have a lot more to come your way."

* * *

><p>Travis had taken it upon himself to go to the airport to pick up Trevor, the eldest son who enlisted, from the airport. Heather had wanted to go with him, but decided to stay home so she could get ready for dinner.<p>

I took a quick shower, scrubbing my skin so hard that it turned pink and squeaked clean. Heather had given me another of Haley's clothes (I'm extremely doubtful that her daughter could possibly let me wear her entire wardrobe). This time, it was a semi-long-sleeved, baby blue dress-shirt and a khaki pencil skirt that ended just above my knees. Unfortunately, the properness of my attire ended there. Since Haley never left behind shoes (and Heather's shoes are so small), I had to wear my now-much-cleaner combat boots. I had to stick with wearing my brown gloves. In front of the mirror … I appeared odd.

I entered our bedroom, holding a towel at the end of my bunched up, wet hair so that it wouldn't touch my shirt. Logan was sitting on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He was wearing his own clothes: a wife beater and his jeans. I was about to ask him what he was doing when I noticed that he was brushing his fingers slightly over her knuckles repeatedly.

Without saying a word, I sat at the foot of the bed and patted his leg. He rolled his head, slanting it to one side and stared at me, giving me a small, sardonic smile. I pursed my lips worriedly.

I thought we were both going to be silent, but he suddenly spoke, surprising me a little.

"Don't you think it's weird?" he asked me, releasing his claws with a loud _snkt_. "It's been fifteen years and I still don't know where these come from." He brought the claws together, faintly tracing one claw onto the one on the other hand. A loud sound of slicing and colliding metal filled the room as sparks exploded from the claws. I flinched back at the sight.

"What do you mean?" I choked out. What was wrong with him?

He stayed quiet for several minutes. I saw a flash of pain pass over her face, making me want to scream at the gloomy expression. "Nothing. I'll go get ready. That woman's going to murder me in my sleep if I don't go." He pushed himself up from the bed (drawing his claws back in) to the door.

I hurried towards the door as well and shut it close, standing in the way so Logan wouldn't leave. "No!" I said angrily. "You can't just _not_ tell me now! Not after you got me all curious! What do you mean? Why don't you know?"

Logan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "It's nothing, kid. Get outta my way."

"Not until you tell me what's going on," I said firmly. "You can't just … stop talking to me for no reason!"

Logan sighed. Without a warning, he grabbed me by my waist and lifted me around so that I was no longer in front of the door.

"Hey! Now wait just a secon -!"

He shushed me. He took my bunched up hair and towel from my hands and wrapped the towel around my shoulders. He then let my hair fall freely down my back.

"I'll tell you when we get back," he growled, opening the door.

"You promise?" I called after him loudly. "I'm not lettin' this go!"

"Yeah, whatever, kid."

* * *

><p>Travis came home without Trevor, saying that he dropped him off at the restaurant. Heather was enraged, but kept the flames within her.<p>

Inside the green, Chevy pickup truck was a tight squeeze, Logan taking almost all the space in the back seat. We didn't talk to each other during the entire ride, even though I had a lot to say to him. I pressed my lips together.

Logan must've been trying to beat his own record of being handsome considering how he looked wearing another of Trevor's suits. He didn't want to wear the jacket, tie, or button the shirt all the way up, but … that was fine with me. The shirt was straining against his shoulders and I could almost see the rippling muscles beneath. And his hair was looking softer than a cloud. It was nearly dark, and it'd be so easy to see if his hair was as soft as it looked ….

Nope. Definitely. I'm just fine.

Was he doing this on purpose? I guardedly glanced at him, but I didn't get any answers.

Heather was shaking like a woman on a sugar-high while Travis sat relaxed and unmoved.

The restaurant –Taj Mahal Palace –was a creative place with a non-creative name. Inside, there were rows of colorful lamps hanging from the ceiling, encased in thin, red paper. Elaborate silver and golden designs ravished the walls, bending into swirls, crawling up the ceiling and twisting together down so that it came together as a chandelier.

This was _way_ fancier than Magnolia's and Grandiflora's.

A waitress, a short, petite, Indian woman with red streaks in her henna-dyed brown hair, led us through the maze of tables to the middle. There were two tables pushed together so six people could easily sit together. Two men were already sitting in the seats.

"Trevor!" Heather squealed, happily. The taller man got up with a bright, white smile and went to hug his mother, holding her tightly.

Trevor and the younger man –who had to be Anthony –looked similar. Both had short, golden blond hair and laugh lines on their cheeks. Trevor looked dressed up in a suit and tie while his younger brother's clothes were wrinkled with his shirt hanging loosely over his dress pants.

Trevor introduced himself to us as we did the same.

"Rogue?" he asked me when I told him my name. There was a strange look on his face.

I forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah. Gave myself a lil' name." He accepted the answer, moving on, but he still had a bizarre impression on his face.

He didn't seem to mind that Logan was wearing his clothes. Heather got him to launch immediately launch into stories about the people he met overseas. Both parents were absorbed in their son's tales, but Anthony looked a little bored.

He poked my shoulder, ripping my attention from Trevor's story about his friend named Lance. "What is it?" I asked him, a little miffed. I was met with a silver fork, which Anthony shot into my hair and trailed it down.

"You could be Ariel," he said mockingly. "But I like marshmallows, so I'll call you that." He flashed me a hungry smile, combing my hair with the fork repeatedly.

"Excuse me?" I inched away from him, my back hitting Logan's arm. "What do you think you're doing?" Marshmallow?

"Trying not to _die_ from boredom." He suddenly turned away and began to thrum his fingers over the glass tabletop. At first, it was just harmless, but it started to catch the attention of other diners. I was waiting for Heather or Travis to snap at the already twenty-two-year-old adult to stop acting like a child, but they ignored his antics.

Maybe it was normal. Mama did tell me that men got immature in their early twenties.

By the time we ordered, Logan was getting into conversations with Trevor and the two hit it off. Somethin' about wars. Lucky. _I_ was stuck with Captain Annoying and his mission to cure boredom by infuriating every single person around him. This time, he started listing off the top 20 greatest beers and exactly _why_ they were the greatest.

I clenched my fingers around the bottom of my chair, trying to get my temper and inner-beast in control. The last thing I wanted to do was ruin Heather's night with her son by whacking her _other_ son with my chair.

I tried to get Logan's attention so that I could ignore Anthony and not seem rude about it, but he was too busy either talking to Trevor or eyeing the waitress with the red-highlights (…who was eyeing him back) to notice my dilemma.

I sighed in relief when the food arrived. All of us had ordered the same spicy chicken. I always liked spicy food. And the water they served us, it was something called jeera water. Some health benefit, I guess.

"Let's dig in," Anthony bellowed. I rolled my eyes, but took a large chunk of the chicken and chewed ….

Holy friggin' crap.

It felt like someone stuck a blowtorch in my mouth and turned it on while I was eating a habanero pepper as I rubbed it in my eyes. I got a glimpse of Anthony who also was holding in the intense pain, eyes squinted, lips puckered.

Logan nudged me. "How is it?" He was silently laughing at me.

I tucked my lips in, biting my lower one. "Mmmmmmmmm." I nodded quickly, tears just about escaping from the corners of my eyes. Ouch. Food getting _this_ spicy should be illegal.

Anthony stopped the rushing waitress who was on her way to the kitchens. "What did you season this chicken with? _Molten lava?"_ He took the words right out my mouth.

The waitress shot him a dirty look and walked away.

"Don't like the food?" Trevor asked, knowingly. Logan took another piece of chicken and ate it, as if he was eating an orange rather than a fireball.

Anthony mordantly chuckled, breathing heavily. "Hah, not that. I think I like it _too _much." He then leaned into my ear and whispered, "Damn, it's too spicy. I'm going blind in my left eye."

I leaned in too, nodding. "I see dead people."

Anthony laughed aloud at that. "I like you, marshmallow." He took a large sip of his water, splashing a little on his face in the process. "Shit! The water's also spicy. Who _does_ that?"

I grimaced at the torture we were being put through.

Never mind. I hate spicy food.

I snuck an ice cube in my mouth, hoping nobody other than Anthony could see that I couldn't handle that food. I'm pretty sure that Logan saw anyway.

All of a sudden, Logan stood up. We all stopped what we were doing to stare at him. He cleared his throat.

"I gotta go. Don't wait up."

Heather looked at me inquisitively but I just gave her a shrug. Although, I already knew what was going on. I had seen the waitress only leave minutes before, coyly smiling at Logan –sorry, _Wolverine_.

A heavy feeling, as if something were pressing forcefully, bloomed in my chest. I brought my hand over my heart, trying to rub it away, passing it off as side-effects of eating lava-seasoned food. My mind understood it was more than that. The pressure traveled up my chest to my face, burning it as if in embarrassment.

What did I have to be embarrassed about?

I bit my lip again so that it didn't quiver. I flipped my hair in front of my shoulder so that I could hide behind the curtain.

Anthony kept talking for the rest of dinner, and I barely got to say a word to Trevor about his years away. At least it got my mind away from a certain mutant.

Before we left, the waitress entered back into the restaurant, her hair out of her ponytail and her face flushed. She had huge, shit-eating grin on her face as she walked to the kitchens, a little hop in her step.

My stomach rolled at the sight of her.

I sighed in relief at the cool air outside. I paced there, calming myself down incase I threw up.

Where the hell was Logan?

"Rogue, aren't you coming?" Heather called out across the parking lot. I looked up from the pavement and stared at her confused. "Rogue?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and grimaced. The pacing was clearly not helping me and I didn't think I'd survive the ride back home without getting carsick.

"I'm okay. I'll just … catch up later," I shouted, fanning my face with my hand. "I just need some air." Heather continued looking after me worriedly. I gave her a tight smile and waved. My head was spinning as if I were being sucked into a tornado.

'Alright,' she mouthed to me. There was a crease in her brow. I stomped off, keeping one hand on the brick wall so that I didn't lose my balance.

_Can't believe I gotta go to her house/Carla's gonna be so pissed/__D'Ancanto's dad's like a frggin' soldier/I'm dying …._

What was that? Someone's voice. Someone ….

I turned a corner, gasping for breath when the scent of cloves reached my nose. Unable to distinguish whether I should be mad or reassured by the aroma, I followed it. The setting sun wouldn't let me see who the person was until I was only a couple feet away. I guess I wasn't so surprised when I was standing next to a bench with Logan smoking a cigar. I surreptitiously sat at the very end of the bench.

"How did you plan on catching up later?" Logan took a deep drag from the cigar. "What if I wasn't here to take you back to the farm?"

I couldn't pinpoint exactly why that question bothered me so much. "Why exactly wouldn't you be here?" I mumbled.

"Any reason."

"You gonna leave me?" I interrupted, my voice raising an octave. The heaviness in my chest was only growing larger and there was this _voice_ ….

"Only if you want me to."

_Carly's gonna be pissed/I'm dying_

"I –kid, don't cry … I …." He sighed, threw his arm around my shoulder, and pulled me close to him. He set his chin on my head.

"I'm-I'm really, re_ally_ sorry, Logan. I know I can be a bother, but I'll stay out of your way if you want me to. I promise I won't bother you ever again." I shut my eyes as tears dripped from my eyes. I took a shaky breath. "Just don't leave me here alone."

"Don't worry, kid. I'm not goin' anywhere." He smoothened my hair back, running his fingers through it. It felt much better than a fork in my hair. I wiped away the wetness from my cold face, feeling a bit reassured.

He tilted his head back in thought.

"Can't believe that Anthony guy thinks Heineken is the greatest beer on that stupid list of his when _clearly_ the number one beer is Westvleteren."

I snorted, amused. "Clearly," I agreed, cynical. I tilted my head. "Of course _you'd_ know that."

"What?" he said defensively. "Belgium beer is classy."

"You've been to _Belgium_?" I asked stupidly.

He laughed at me. "No, it's called importing." I made a silent 'oh' with my mouth, giving myself a metal 'duh'.

We got up and began to walk towards where the lights of the town were. I hadn't really focused on the actual town. There was a giant area in the middle filled with little shops and Chilly's Pub was on the other side of the town. People milled about, some in groups and some alone.

A surge of happiness seemed to burn in me when I saw the simple-ness and togetherness of everyone here. I honestly didn't want to ruin the moment, but of course, curiosity got the best of me.

"Did you … uh … _do_ _it_ with her? The waitress?"

"Mind your own business, Marie," Logan droned.

I spun around and walked backwards so I could speak to him face-to-face. "Well, aren't you afraid of gettin' a disease or somethin'?"

"I heal, remember? I don't get sick." He pulled on my arm so I stumbled to the side as I continued walking backwards, nearly missing a pole.

"Wait, that would mean you were in the position once to find _out_ if you could heal from a STD."

"Quit bein' such a smartass."

I shrugged. "Why do you like girls with red hair so much?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Who said I like girls with red hair?"

"Well, there was that Molly from before and tonight there was the waitress with that red in her hair," I said, using my fingers to count the women.

"For the record, she had brown hair." Logan once again moved me when people were walking towards us so that I wouldn't bump into them. After avoiding at least three people, Logan, impatient, pulled me next to him so I was facing the same way he was. "The red was completely fake."

"Yeah, but it was still red."

"But she had brown hair."

I sighed, pursing my lips. "Okay, fine. You sometimes like brunettes."

"Now that you decided that you don't want to mind your own business, why do you tell people your name is Rogue?" He scratched the stubble on his chin. "We're not exactly rampaging on announcing to the world that we're mutants, so why go by a name that gets people suspicious?"

I thought about the question. "I guess 'cause that's what I am. Rogue." I grimaced, remembering how I'd gotten the idea. "You're the only one who knows my real name, so far." I turned to him and smiled brightly. "So can you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I'm keepin' a_ lot_ of promises for just a 13-year-old," he said seriously. His face softened. "Yeah, I promise."

I relaxed, significantly. "Thanks, Logan. It means a lot." I kicked at something invisible. "And I'm fifteen and three quarters. Not thirteen," I grumbled. I looked up at him. "Speaking of promises, you said you'd tell me what you meant by not knowing where your claws came from."

"Tell you later," he growled, his face darkening. I watched him sadly. His mood had changed so quickly when I mentioned it. I should learn to keep my mouth shut.

This must bother him a lot.

"You don't have to tell me at all if you don't want to. I know that there are things about my life that I'm uncomfortable talkin' about." I nudged him with my shoulder (which was kind of awkward since my head only reached _his_ shoulder) offering him a meaningful look.

"Yeah." He messed up my hair. I giggled and stood on the tip of my toes, attempting to mess his hair, but he held me back with a mischievous grin. "You're a good kid."

I stuck my tongue out at him and skipped off ahead of him.

* * *

><p>Back home, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing my hair when it hit me.<p>

I'm a brunette.

I grinned at the thought and went to my room to sleep.

* * *

><p>AN: Hey! Thanks of reading! I was reading a couple of other X-Men fanfiction stories, and I realized that other authors actually _write_ Rogue's southern accent. When I write Rogue's dialogue, I just _imagine_ her talking in her accent, so that's why I write "I" instead of "Ah".

I had originally planned on writing the entire farm section of this story in this one chapter, but that would've taken too long. So maybe one more chapter with Miller Farm.

Please review!

.


	7. Positively 4th Street

A/N: Hello my lovely readers! Thank you for the wonderful reviews! For those who do not like the Miller Farm part of the story, y'all are gonna be happy readers today! I was starting to get bored of the old couple as well, so I kind of killed the old idea, and decided it's time that Rogue and Wolvie moved on. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

And, I get why some of you are all "uh…" when I confirmed Rogue's age to be only 15. Yeah, it's young. But that's the point. It's all unrequited and Logan's not exactly gonna wanna date a teenager. And it works because at this stage she is super annoying and super clingy.

You got a lotta nerve

To say you are my friend

When I was down

You just stood there grinning

-Positively 4th Street by Bob Dylan

Chapter 7

The church was a small place, a tad bit larger than the barn itself. It was dim and homey, and if you got bored, you could just admire the beauty of the dust particles that flitted around your face. Notice I'm being sarcastic.

Not that I had anything against churches. I went to one every Sunday back in Meridian. It's just watching everyone else get all loving and start hand-holding and stuff around me … it just made me nervous and a little ticked off. I never had a problem with it before. After I first got my mutation, Daddy put a stop to going to church. People were talking, that's what he told me.

And here I was, looking like Sookie to her Bill (who, I _guess_ is Logan), a goody-two-shoes with an ugly yellow dress that had puffy long sleeves. Heather also persisted that I wear white stockings and some buckle shoe called Mary Janes –I don't understand why she would name her daughter's shoes. Even _that_ was strange for me. Heather let me wear Haley's lipstick, called Ruby Woo Red.

Mama had lipstick called Bombshell Red. She only let me wear it like once 'cause she thought if I wore it too often, I might turn into a hooker or something.

But that's beside the point. I felt stupid wearing these.

And Haley? Oh, hell, I met _her._ She was _not_ happy about me wearing any of her clothes. She was the total opposite of what Heather described her. She was a scornful, no-nonsense _bitch._ It's like she has a permanent scowl sewn into her face. And of course, Logan likes her. He always likes the weird girls. Haley doesn't have red _or_ brown hair. It's black. _Completely_ black.

I exhaled loudly, attracting Logan's attention. He raised an eyebrow at me, giving my gloved hand a squeeze. He was actually sweet enough to refuse to hold anyone else's hand (it seriously made my day since Haley sat on his other side) except mine.

"Kid," Logan whispered, lightly tapping my shoe with his. "When does this church thing get over?" Though I didn't show it, I was startled when I saw Logan exit the house that morning. The night before, he had clearly stated that he didn't like churches and would never enter one so I brought up possibility that that makes him a vampire. He lightly bumped my shin, turning to sleep.

I was certainly not in the mood, so I kicked his shoe, brought a finger to my lips and shushed him. "We've been here only … seven minutes! Where do you wanna go so bad?"

Before he could reply, the song the choir had been singing ended and the priest was already talking, using dramatic pauses and whatnot, telling a story. I could barely keep my attention on his. Especially since Logan was still holding my hand.

I tried praying hard. For forgiveness. For some luck. After everything I'd done to my family name, to David, who could be six feet under and I wouldn't know. Forgiveness for _killing_ Jeremy Smith. I didn't even have a chance to mourn or _freak out_ about his death.

I squeezed Logan's hands back.

But even Logan's hands couldn't distract me from the thoughts that ran through my mind. Friday night, while Logan foolishly _almost_ lost every dime we earned on this farm to poker (stupid Anthony kept provoking him), Trevor had revealed to me something I hadn't expected at all.

We were sitting on the deck on the front porch right after Trevor pulled out of the game, saying it was "too risky." We both had a blue Popsicle in our mouths while we kicked out legs out in the sandy ground.

"I know why you name yourself Rogue," Trevor had suddenly said.

I pretended not to care what he had to say, and went on slurping. "You don't know anythin' about me," I replied, a little too sharply. Trevor smiled all knowingly. I glanced back at where Logan sat, and I could just see the tense formation of his shoulders.

Trevor leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "You're a mutant."

I rolled by shoulders, a bit too exaggeratedly now to admit. I raised my eyebrows dramatically, and smiled at him. "You trying to insult me?"

"Absolutley not. Just trying to insinuate something about myself right there."

"And what exactly would that be Mr. Trevor?"

"I'm a mutant too."

It was moments like these that I missed the most. The men on the front porch playing some stupid card game while defending sports honor or whatever. The women ignoring the random idiocy and eating ice-pops. Mama loved family time. Daddy just trailed along everything Mama came up with.

Mama told me that when she was a bit older than me, she didn't wanna live with her parents anymore. So she got up one day and walked out. She said it was great the first week. She had the money, a friend's house to stay, job applications filled out. It was the greatest decision she ever made.

But the paradisiacal "era", or she'd call it sometimes without even realizing it, ended quickly. She wouldn't tell me what prompted her to go home but she did. She packed her bags as quickly as she did before, her destination with its door still wide open.

Mutant. It was nearly considered a curse word in Meridian and I ruined it for Mama and Daddy by becoming one. I hated myself for it. Why couldn't I have something safe like flying? Instead I'm like a snake.

_Cunning bitch._

"I'm a mutant too."

Wolverine and Jeremy were the only mutants I've ever met and one of them already attempted to harm me. And I'm dangerous enough to be around. What can he do? What is he planning to do?

"I don't wanna talk to you anymore," I breathed. I scrambled up and into the house. Before I disappeared behind a wall, I looked back at the open door at the group.

Wolverine sat frozen staring at Trevor.

Church ended with an "amen."

Thankfully, Trevor slept in this morning and didn't have the strength to get up for church. Unfortunately, Anthony decided to come, which meant I had to deal with his sniggering comments about the way I look.

Logan quickly exited the church the second it conceded. Underneath his breath, I heard him mutter, "Can't believe I even went in there." I scurried after him and caught up with him just as he pulled out a cigar from a case within his pocket. "We have to get out of here," he said as he lit it.

That was true. Such a blissful place suddenly became a suffocating cage. I couldn't let Miller Farm turn into another place I needed to run from. "You're right. When should we go?"

Logan froze when I said the word "we" but didn't do more. "Now?"

I frowned. "I don't think that's such a good idea. I want to say my goodbyes properly. And it wouldn't hurt to help clean the house a bit. We _did_ just barge in."

He sighed and a puff of smoke burst into the air.

xxXXxx

In the end, we didn't leave.

xxXXxx

_Can't miss the game/Carla's gonna be pissed/D'Ancanto's dad's like a friggin' toy soldier/I'm dying…._

The voice was so diminutive, I wasn't sure I was even hearing it. As if it was just coming from my head. I strained to hear closer, to see if it was just my imagination or a ghost or something down the hall.

_D'Ancanto's/Stupid project/I'm dying/Where am I?_

Frustrated, I threw the comforter off me, piling it on Logan. I pulled my pajama pants up to mid-thigh, and rolled the sleeves of my oversized t-shirt up to my shoulders. The air around me was thick like a blanket, which made me feel suffocated.

I thought back on the camper, sorrowfully remembering all the possessions that were left behind. My clothes. My iPod. My wallet.

My wallet didn't have money in it. That was all Logan's responsibility and he had stashed it all in the compartment between our seats.

Nope.

The wallet just had a small, sepia photo. It had a small tear at the bottom and was dog-eared but for some reason, I felt upset that it was the most important thing I'd ever owned. It was a photo of my family at the church picnic by the lake. The sun was setting and mama had finally decided to free her hair from that tight bun and just look beautiful. I was the one holding the camera, taking the picture of all three of us together.

I got up and walked to the door, my hand quivering over the knob. A horrible ache settled in my chest.

Would it still be there?

I let my hand fall back to my side. No, I guess not.

Beside me, Logan was asleep, breathing deeply. I rolled to my side, all fatigue leaving my body, and watched his troubled face.

The last few days, he was walking on eggshells (more like hot coals): sleeping but awake. He never slipped up or set us in a situation that was too immoral for us. But right now, he was lost in his dream.

_ I wonder who he really is._

It was disconcerting that the amount of things he knew about my life was sizable compared to what I knew about him. What was I even doing with him? This stranger?

I admired how striking he looked in the pale light. I couldn't tell if he appeared silver or golden, but his hair was jet black now and the confusion of colors made him look ominous in the dark.

He let out a gasp; his hand, which was previously resting beside him, clenched the sheets. Suspicious, I brought myself up, debating with myself whether to wake him or not. His right hand unconsciously went to his hair, pulling it back; a low groan escaped his mouth.

I checked to make sure my gloves were intact and reached for his arm to wake him up, just as he had instructed me to do less than a week ago. Logan himself had started wearing gloves (ones that I had bought for him from town when I shopped with Heather) these days. Especially when he slept. At first, I didn't know if I should've felt relieved or insulted.

_It's for his safety_, I had thought resolutely.

I shook his arm, reveling in the feel of his muscles. I closed my eyes for a few seconds to focus on the main point. "Hey, Logan," I said softly. A low guttural noise came from his throat as he traced his hands out, close to my knees.

A loud metal-slicing sound filled the air. I looked down in horror when I felt a harsh sting on my leg. Logan's claws were out, stained with something dark. Warmth trailed down my leg, pooling on the sheets below us.

"Ah," I breathed. I slowly straightened my leg and I almost screamed when it felt like my skin was being ripped back. I clenched my jaws and grabbed the comforter pressing it to my knee. I pushed myself back against the headboard, wondering what I should do. Jesus, this fucking _hurts._

Would waking up Logan be the right thing? Wouldn't he just get all self-loathing or something and leave?

But then I decided that it didn't matter since the bleeding wasn't stopping. I tried dabbing away the blood that was already coating around the injury but I still could barely see the wound.

I shook Logan again, this time with my elbows since my gloves were covered almost entirely in blood. "Logan, help me." When he wouldn't get up, I balanced myself on my other knee and hovered over him, attempting once again.

"Logan," I said sternly. "Logan, I'm bleedi-"

Before I could finish my sentence, a hand flew out and wrapped its thick fingers around my throat. A gloved hand. Logan's gloved hand.

I felt a blade from one of his claws slice my cheek. Warm blood dripped from the cut like tears. My eyes were wide with surprise and confusion.

Logan's face was twisted with rage and hatred. And they were black. He growled and snarled, some sort of unknown pain within the depths of his eyes. An animal was locked in a cage within it.

I just wanted to get rid of it. Just erase everything making him so sad.

"Lo-," I started, trying to snap him awake, but he silenced me by squeezing harder. It hurt for an instant. It was as if his fingers were poignant at my windpipe. I opened my mouth to drag in some air, mildly successful.

I tried speaking but found that I could only make a high noise. I clawed at his arm although I knew in my mind that it was tedious. His grip merely got tighter.

As my vision got blurry, I brought my bloody hand up to his face, trailing it along to his chest, leaving a brilliant red imprint. I closed my eyes reluctantly, focusing on the painful breathing.

Once again, without a warning, Logan abruptly let go; he collapsed back on to the bed. I landed on both my knees; I hissed as I tremored in pain. I knelt there for some time, ignoring the throbbing in my knee and the odd puncturing feeling in my neck.

I waited until the pain was numbing to move. Hurriedly, I grabbed any piece of cloth covered in my blood, one after the other, piling it all on the floor. I stared at Logan's sleeping form once again, cursing myself mutely when I saw the handprint on his skin.

I pushed all the sheets out of the room and ripped one of them. I grabbed the first aid from the cabinet. I balled the torn cloth, stuffing it into my mouth and sprayed the disinfectant on my knee. Tears escaped my eyes at the excruciating pain but I couldn't dawdle around. I wet another cloth and went back into the room to clean up the blood on Logan's neck and shoulder. Gently as I could, I slid the cloth over him, absorbing the blood along.

With that, I put on my boots to go out and dump the bedding in the trash. I hoped Heather wouldn't find it.

Though it was far from, in the back of my mind, it felt as if I had just committed a murder and was cleaning all the evidence away.

Back in the bathroom, I rested my hand on the faucet. Grudgingly, I looked up to the mirror. This was the face I saw in horror movies –the strange girl with the sickly pale face; the ugly red stain adorning one cheek; the ugly bruises on the neck …

_ Damn, I look possessed._

Was I supposed to be scared? Was I supposed to be screaming bloody murder, run out the door, and leave a fire in my trail? If that seemed like the right thing to do, why did I feel like I should just forgive him for this?

I turned the faucet and let the cold water rush into my bare palms but it seemed to only warm my hands even more.

This isn't going to work. I went back to the room to grab my own clothes and decided taking a shower was a much better plan. While showering with one leg cautiously stuck outside the tub was as comfortable as it sounds, I knew that it was time to go.

Not me or Logan. But Wolverine. It seemed stupid to me but I suddenly had the urge to protect Logan from some feral animal that … hid _within_ himself. It made no sense yet it was like a light was shining on _everything_.

Logan had something inside of him whether he was aware of it or not. I was old enough to understand that we couldn't possibly stay here any longer without causing some harm towards the Hudsons. Intentionally or not.

It was four o' clock, and there was absolutely no possible way I was staying up for another two. A D'Ancanto just didn't have that much patience left in her.

This time, I didn't hesitate to get rough with Logan while waking him up. I pushed against him so that he rolled over onto his stomach and starting vigorously rubbing his back –mama's remedy when I was too lazy to start my morning.

Logan grunted, slapping my hands away, but I only rubber harder. He grabbed both my wrists in one hand and yanked me forward. I tripped over the bed and landed over his chest on my chin.

"What. The. Hell. Are you doing," Logan growled, menacingly. His eyes were shadowed and tired; that was the least of my priorities. "What're you dressed up for?" He squinted, eyeing my garment.

I was back to wearing my long-sleeved t-shirt and my green coat. My gloves had been washed at least twenty times while I was taking a shower. I mean, I did almost everything in these gloves. I had already taken care of my cuts on my knee, thankfully hidden by my jeans. Unfortunately, the cut on my cheek was tricky. I had spent nearly an hour brushing my hair so that it looked natural that it covered half my face.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead. Time to go." I smiled at him sweetly.

Logan raised an eyebrow and blinked away the clinging tiredness holding onto him. "You wanna leave? Weren't _you _the one that wanted to stay here?"

"Yeah, but then I decided that we shouldn't stay." I scratched the back of my neck, hoping to pull out a lie from tip of my tongue. "I just … have a bad feeling here."

That was all he needed. Apparently to Wolverine, a bad feeling was something you didn't ignore. In less than ten minutes, Logan had a duffel bag out with clothes already filled in it. "Fill it up," he instructed. With that, he left outside. I quickly opened drawers and pulled out clothes that fit me, grabbing extra bras and underwear (the ones Heather, bless her, was kind enough to buy me). I went to the side drawer and stuffed the roll of money that Logan and I had earned during our stay here.

Instinct became a momentary gifted power as equivalent as it was a curse. I had to stop and wonder if Logan even knew about the real Wolverine inside him.

Logan was doing something weird with the wires of the bike, then fastening the small luggage we had to the back. He looked up at me, nodding at me to get ready to leave.

I regretfully thought back to the oblivious family in the house. With a swift kick of my leg, I climbed onto the bike behind Logan.

xxXXxx

"Logan!" I yelled over the roaring wind. "Logan, can we please take a break?" I could already feel a twinge of soreness at my thighs and we'd been riding less than an hour.

"Not yet," I heard him rumble. I shifted a little in the back, trying to relieve the numbness on my butt. I gently rested my head on Logan's jacket-covered back, but immediately threw my head back, as if it was on fire. _God, I can't do that._ _I can't just touch him like that_. I sighed.

He hated me. I knew it.

He's always bothered when I want to rest or wanted to stay longer in one place. He never wants to talk to me about himself and always flinches whenever I say "we."

This made me miss the camper even more. I could always fall asleep to avoid the awkward silence where he would stay focused on the road and I'm left twiddling my thumbs like an idjit. But my chances of falling asleep on a motorcycle and living was too slim to challenge. It helped that I couldn't see his face and it was an unspoken universal code that there _was_ no need to talk. But _still_.

At least this time if those two crazy mutants wanted to attack us, we could spot them first.

We still hadn't figured out what they wanted in the first place. Maybe that's what happens. A few years down the line of being a mutant, you end up becoming some mutant-eating zombie. So _that's_ what's gonna happen to me.

About half an hour later, Logan tilted the bike to the next exit. Finally.

We parked at a rest stop that had one small building for bathrooms, an information center, and a large grassy area to its right to walk people's dogs.

I made sure my hair covered my cheek again since the wind tossed it around like salad. I lifted my leg stiffly off the bike and a searing pain shot through my knee. The skin felt like it ripped right down the middle. A moist feeling on my long pants touched my leg.

Immediately, Wolverine was already sniffing the air, pointing his nose towards me. With my eyes wide, I looked into his confused, raging eyes.

"Blood," he growled.

_You're so stupid, Rogue. Did you think that you could hide this from him? Think of something!_

"It's that time of the month, I guess," I said weakly. _That's so embarrassing._ He seemed unconvinced, looking at my legs and then to my cheek, but made a disgusted face. He tossed me the duffle bag to get my "equipment." He _so_ hates me.

"Rogue," he called after me. I tentatively turn back. "I know where blood comes from. When you're done, you're gonna explain what's going on." I just wanted to get out of here quick.

_Well, shit._

I quickly went to the bathroom. Who knew the next time Logan would stop for me? I hadn't bled too much so it was a lot easier to clean up. I wrapped a new clean bandage around my knee. I swept my hair behind my ear to examine the scratch on my cheek. I sighed with relief. It didn't exactly look the way I wanted but at least it wasn't as flaming red as before. I replaced the Band-Aid. I put my gloves back on.

What was I doing? What if he brought me to the brink of death? Should I still be toddling after him like a scared little girl? Besides, he'd rather be alone anyway. He makes that clear in every way possible. Still, my every instinct told me that for maximum protection, I might as well stick with someone able enough to keep me safe.

Even if he might be the cause of my death in the end.

And I could blame it on the horses. I could just say one of them got a little rough and, well, the rest is history. Unless he questions it again.

As I packed everything back between my clothes in the duffel bag, a woman walked into the restroom.

I quickly stuff everything inside, not wanting to arouse any doubt. The last thing I needed was some lady suspecting I'm a mutant and then calling the police so I'd be forced to register.

"Cold outside, isn't it?" she breathily laughed. She turned on the faucet, letting the hot water run on her hands. "I thought I'd be used to weather like this, but it gets me every time."

_Okay, then?_ What's she telling me all of that for?

"I'm not from Canada," she clarified, smiling wider. She appeared somewhat familiar. Maybe I crossed her on the road before.

"Uh, that's cool. Me too." I wasn't usually too friendly with strangers on the road. This one girl I met in Tennessee told me you never trust another person on the road. That's the number one rule for a runaway. Especially if you're a mutant.

I already broke that rule with Logan.

Her face, I recognized it; I just didn't know where. "Where are you from?" the woman asked me casually.

_Alright, now this is fishy._ "Czechoslovakia, what's it to ya, lady?" I sassed.

Her eyes widened a little, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. I just didn't want to alarm you. Are you Rogue?"

_What?  
><em>I grabbed the duffel bag and inched towards the door. There was a chance she messed around with the mutant couple that attacked me and Wolverine last time. Maybe she could _mind control_ or something or something else dangerous.

"No, please don't be scared!" she rushed. "My name is Jean Grey; I work at the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning." _Higher Learning? They're gonna kidnap me and take me for testing!_ "It's a safe place for mutants, I promise."

"Just stay the hell away from me, lady." I slowly inched towards the door, holding the duffle bag in front of me for protection.

"I'm trying to –"

"You don't know what I can do."

"There's no need for you to fight. I'm trying to _help_ you." She stood up a little straighter, gaining confidence. "Two mutants attacked you almost a week ago. They're still looking for you, so my team and I, we're trying to protect you. You just have to trust me."

Both of us stood still for a while, neither daring to make the first move. Jean Grey, if that was her real name, had her hands beside her, but I could see them twitch in anticipation.

Without wasting another second, I yanked open the door and ran as hard as my legs could work. With every step I took, I thought I'd be moving ahead on my knees rather than on my feet, and with every step, the wound open a little more.

"LOGAN!" I screamed across the parking lot. I scanned the area but he wasn't in sight. I turned around and the red-headed Jean Grey was running after me.

Oh God, she's going to kill me. She's going to kill me and Logan's going to think I just ran away from him. _Ican'tbreathe-ican'tbreathe-ican'tbreathe_.

_Carla's gonna be pissed/D'Ancanto's dad is like a friggin toy soldier/Marie wants to travel/I'm kissing her/I'm dying I'm dying I'm-_

_ "RUN!"_

My defenses instantly rose. Devoid of my permission, my arms and legs started pumping again and I started running faster –faster than Anna Marie D'Ancanto should be able to.

_What the hell?!_

I was aware of the actions my body was performing but I knew I wasn't doing anything at all. My whole conscious hung on the brink of a wall in my mind where I couldn't control my body.

_Stop! Stop it! _My legs wouldn't stop moving. The pain on my knee was reaching the point of being unbearable. I ran through the parking lot, slightly tilting at the waist to avoid moving and parked vehicles. Images of a large green field with several white lines flashed through my mind. Screams exploded of hundreds of people roared in my ears.

Suddenly, one car stopped right in front of me, I directly jumped onto the hood, on the roof, and off the back. _Stop!_

My legs froze in place. My upper body tilted forward and crashed onto the ground behind the car. My hands automatically stretched in front of me to protect me from my fall. The thing holding me back from gaining power over my own body was slowly losing control and didn't know how to position it. I heard a sickening crack when my entire body limped its weight onto my shoulder.

I opened my mouth wide to scream, but not a sound came out. The Wall wouldn't let me. I'd never felt such a terrible pain before. My whole hand hurt and my head started to throb too. I needed to throw up.

_Carla's gonna be pissed/ I'm kissing her/I'm dying/Where am I? /In a parking lot/Marie-Marie!-_

"_David?"_ I murmured, confused.

And for a long time, with my cheek pressed against the asphalt, I stared straight ahead, further and further, underneath a truck and a car and a hill. With bewilderment so thick, my memory kept failing me.

_David. _

The hill blurred, followed by the car and the truck. I wanted to scream. Just tear the ugly feeling straight out of me. The fright from my own body and the stranger in my mind. I could hear the angry voice of the driver behind me. Jean Grey mumbled something to him and eventually got him to back off.

"Rogue," her soothing voice said. A strangled cry escaped my mouth. "Sweetie, let me help you."

_David._

"It's okay. Everything's okay."


End file.
